2. Junelle Station

“Uh— More tests? We just got back from Ethos, and I’m behind—” Nash frowned as he was cut off. Fuck. He listened as Doctor Kruvic’s chief assistant, Doctor Blake Huri, outlined the following day’s schedule. Bastard. You’re just doing this because Vivienne isn’t here. “Yes, sir. Zero-seven hundred. I’ll be there.” Nash closed the connection and put his digipad away. I should just start sleeping in the lab; I’m never at work anymore.

He stretched and was promptly reminded as to why it was a bad idea; every joint in his body hurt. Unforeseen side-effects of the aversion therapy. He grunted as he remembered how quick the experts at Ethos had been to dismiss his discomfort. Here, have some pills and stop doing anything physical. Nash caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror over the sink. His clothes hung loosely, emphasizing how much muscle mass he’d lost in the last two years. Who knew so much of me was powered by aggression? Nash pulled a bottle of beer out from the desk drawer and snorted, remembering he wasn’t allowed to drink before tests. Fuck. He put it back and slammed the drawer shut. All he wanted to do was relax and lie down, but now he was too angry to sleep. He felt his stomach churn as his brief bout of temper triggered a reaction.

Calm down, or you’ll make yourself sick again, the Kind voice whispered.

Nash fell into his chair and fumbled in his breast pocket for his cigarettes. He needed to vent to someone who cared. Doctor Kruvic had stayed at Ethos and wasn’t due back for another week. Nash lit up and inhaled deeply, enjoying the rush of nicotine as it hit his system. He took another drag, then powered up his old hard-link system and waited for it to boot.

Evan, please be online. Nash’s fingers blurred as he typed the password sequence that let him enter his secret online haven, the BBS. A single line of text appeared on the screen.

C01: Welcome back, N01. You have been gone for 2 weeks, 4 hours and 17 minutes.

N01: Good evening, Control. Is E01 online?

Nash scrolled through the new posts on the forum while he waited for a response. The only thing new was in requests, and he quickly checked the files that had been left for him to sort and repair. Four new directories, two encrypted. All of them in a dead language.

An alert flashed at the bottom of the screen.

C01: E01 has been offline for 4 days, 19 hours and 47 minutes. E02 is online now. Would you like me to query his availability?

Damn. Nash frowned as he considered bothering Ed with his problems. He decided against it. His real bond was with Evan. They were kindred spirits despite the twenty-year difference in their ages. No one used their real names on the BBS, it was a matter of security given the tensions between Korlune and Ankoresh. Nash had broken the unspoken rule and traced everyone, to prove that he could and to feel more connected to the group. He’d discovered that E01 and E02 were Chief Field Tech Evan Stannic and his partner, Chief Weapons Mech Ed Olivier. Both men were famous in Ankoresh. Too bad the borders are still closed, I’d love to meet you two in person. Nash knew it was impossible at this point. He stared at the screen, lost in a thousand what-ifs. The message flashed once to remind him that it was still on the screen. Even though it was an AI, Nash didn’t like not answering it.

N01: No, that won’t be necessary. Thank you, Control. Goodnight.

C01: Goodnight, N01.

Nash flagged himself as busy and attempted to lose himself in work, but nothing he found could draw his full attention. His body ached relentlessly. He finished his cigarette and lit a new one.

Something scurried across the floor in his peripheral vision. Reflex made him kick the sonic emitter under his desk, and he watched the tiny silver-colored rodent dart back the way it came. Silverii. Where there’s one, there’s ten. He shuddered as it squeezed its way under the door and disappeared. Not only were they thieves, stealing shiny things for their nests, but they were omnivores. He vividly remembered the stories his sister used to tell him about what the tiny creatures could do to a person in the dark. Nash stood, crossed the room, and came to a halt in front of the bank of lockers that served as his closet. He opened the one closest to the door. Traps, traps, traps... Aha! He found the box they were supposed to be in and sighed when it proved to be empty.

Another silverii darted from behind the lockers and under the door.

Time to start sleeping with the lights on. Nash returned to his desk, to find a message waiting for him from Ed.

E02: I was wondering if you’d started with the files yet?”

N01: Just. I’m not very far along. They’re in Tyr, and I’m still figuring out some of the intricacies of the language.

Nash hit enter and went to get himself a coffee. He returned and found another text. He took a sip, then began to read.

E02: We have a security problem. E01 was picked up by security forces 4 days ago. C01 has confirmed that there have been no new entries using his permissions. There haven’t been any new people join in that time either, so we’re ok right now, but the BBS may be compromised. If so, we’ll have to shutdown for a while.

Nash coughed as the liquid went down the wrong pipe. He almost dropped the mug as he set it down. His fingers found the keyboard, and his first concern poured through them onto the screen.

N01: Why did they take Evan? Were there specific charges? As he typed the last question mark, he realized what he’d divulged. Crap! I’m not supposed to know who they are. Nash waited, each second growing longer than the last. He broke.

N01: Are you going to ban me? He was spared any further torture.

E02: Ha! I knew it. No. We won’t ban you; you just won me a bet, Nash. As far as charges go, I have no idea - nothing’s been announced. The last time Ankoresh Internal Security pulled him in was 10 years ago – Gods know what they’ve stuck in their files since then.

N01: Is there anything I can do?

E02: Yes. I have just the project for you. I should warn you, though, it poses some personal risk.

Nash leaned forward and watched as a new folder was added to his short list. He checked the contents quickly then downloaded them to his personal hard-link system. He opened the folder marked with the number one. First assignment: create data evidence for a series of massive solar flares and then for the electromagnetic storm that follows it. Nash opened the files marked solar phenomenon and scanned the contents.

N01: I’m not sure I understand what you’re trying to do. How do massive plasma ejections and solar prominences help Evan?

E02: You’re probably too young to remember, but the files I sent you relate to a storm we had about 15 years ago. The electromagnetic radiation they generated played havoc with hardware on both sides of the border. I need a plausible explanation for why digi-link systems will be interrupted, and why some will fry. I can get what I need in place to disrupt the necessary networks across Ankoresh, but a rogue EMP is a suspicious thing – I don’t want them to automatically think to look for me and my flat-deck. Any hard evidence against Evan should be in the Ankoresh Internal Security Archives. I need you to go in and make sure his file is destroyed. Once you’re done, the EMP will cover your tracks.

N01: Ankoresh still uses hard-link technology in their observatories – someone there is going to note the lack of storm, regardless of the data stream prior to the event.

E02: Unlikely. Professor Runic has had all our telescopes trained on Hybor and the asteroid belt for the last two years. He’s close to proving that Hybor was once Tamyrh’s second moon. Trust me; no one in Ankoresh is looking at the sun. The EMP damage will be convincing enough. Korlune has more observatories – are they all digi-link now?

N01: I think so, but I’d have to check to be sure. I know they’re all connected to the master observatory just outside Merrow Cluster so I can access them through the hub. Hopefully, I can find a way to take them all off-line during this event and simulate the effect of the EM radiation.

E02: Are you okay with this?

N01: Yes. I’ve never done anything like this before, but I’ll do my best.

E02: I know you will. The fact that you’re willing to even try means a lot, Nash. Thanks.

N01: Would you like me to damage a few other things while I’m in? It would look less suspicious if more files were corrupted or entirely wiped.

E02: You’re right. Hit the Mount Solomon Observatory archives – old Amsel keeps hard-copy backups so he won’t be hurt by it. You could also wipe the Korsari Engineers file; I downloaded it to our central network last week.

N01: Does AIS keep a backup off-site?

E02: They upgraded everything to digi-link about ten years ago, backup included.

Nash sat back and opened the next file. No, this can’t be right.

N01: Per your info, all their field offices tie directly into this one hub, and their backups can be found on the same network? That’s insane. They’ve got to keep hard-link records or hard-copies somewhere.

E02: They do. I’ve already got someone dealing with that part of the problem.

N01: How much time do we have?

E02: Three days. I’ll be in position in two. Can you, do it?

N01: You’ll have your storm in three days.

Nash logged off, butted out his cigarette and went straight to work.

*

Silence. Nash stared off into space, admiring the stars before he turned his attention to the task at hand. Floating... Adjust the mass, it’s off. Nash reached out into the expanse and the equations transformed from thought into matter. Plumes of flame erupted from the surface of the sun, dancing around him before arcing out into the black. There was no hot, no cold, and the lack of sound was profoundly peaceful. He directed the flow like a conductor and watched as the waves of energy rippled out into the universe. Nash calculated the disturbance the solar wind shock wave would generate in the magnetosphere when it hit and added the number into his digipad. Perfect. He stared at the small screen as the symbols faded into nothingness. What the hell? A high-pitched beeping sound grew louder, shattering the stillness. Nash felt himself falling backward, and terror gripped him. I’m going to die. His eyes snapped open, and he found himself staring at the ceiling. When did I go to bed? Damn dream. Who the hell would page me this early? He grabbed his digipad and turned off the alert, then looked at the message.

“Dr. Blake Huri - RE: Your appointment at 07:30.”

Nash looked at the time-stamp. That can’t be right. Zero-nine hundred – Shit! He rolled out of bed, grabbed his glasses and pulled on a pair of jeans. The black t-shirt draped across the back of his chair was next, followed by his lab coat. Where the hell are my shoes? Nash remembered putting them under his desk. He hopped across the room as he pulled them on. Damn. Forgot the socks. Nash spotted a pair under his cot and knelt to retrieve them. The second one twitched and suddenly sprouted a tail. Silverii. He pulled his hand back before the tiny rodent could bite him. He dug a pair out of his laundry bag and sat at his desk while he put them on.

They believe you’ve been sick. Take a deep breath. They’re not going to care if you’re late, the Kind voice assured him.

Nash chuckled at its naiveté. Ha! I’ve held them up for three days. I’m willing to bet that Blake is going to be a complete prick about it. He locked his door and sprinted down the corridor in the direction of the Rec-Gen labs, remembering to duck under a low archway as he rounded the corner. Bless you, endorphins. He tuned out the pain and rode the high for as long as he could. The kilometer of corridor went by quickly. Can’t keep this pace up. Nash slowed to a jog as adrenaline-induced nausea threatened to make him sick. Evan’s home. The BBS is safe. Relax. He smiled, reflecting on how well things had gone.

It’s over, and no one’s the wiser, the Kind voice congratulated him.

I hope so. Nash answered as he pressed the call button for the elevator. He jumped as someone tapped him on the shoulder and spun to see who it was.

“Sorry, Nash, I thought you heard me,” the short, black-haired man moved to stand next to him.

“Hey, Kalish. When did you get back?”

“Yesterday. I hate topside recoveries; it takes a week in the shower for your skin to stop itching,” Kalish paused. “Something’s different. Wait, you’re growing a goatee?” He winked mischievously. “Sexy. It suits you.”

Nash ran his hand over his chin and realized he hadn’t shaved for close to five days. “I wish I could say it was a deliberate attempt at style,” he peered into the polished metal doors trying to see himself. “You think I should let it go?”

“Yes. If Ebo could grow facial hair, I would cultivate one.” Kalish rubbed his hand over his smooth, dark skin. “I’ll have to live vicariously through you.”

The elevator doors opened, and they stepped inside.

“Are we ever going to see you in the Mech-Bay again? I miss having decent stuff to build, and I miss you too.”

“Thanks, I miss it all as well.” Nash leaned back against the wall as the doors closed. “Press sixty-one for me, will you?”

“Sixty-one? Wow, they’re calling you up to the Gods these days.” Kalish punched the buttons for their respective floors.

“Not quite, but I’ve got a God’s view. The area I report to is on the East side of the tower, and you can see over the top of the hydroponics dome. The plains North of us are in full bloom right now; it’s a sea of red, orange and green out there. Spring’s a month early, and the transports are kicking up a ton of pollen as they come in on final approach— Well, you were just out there; you know the situation.”

“It was gross; I’m still itchy.” Kalish paused then whispered, “Can you see the Seep from up there?”

“It’s a long way off. Most days you can see the mountains around the Evora basin, but it takes a clear day to see anything of the jungle. It’s like a thin, green ribbon at the base of the blue.” Nash shuddered, as he remembered his time at Farlen Station. I could see the trees from the Mech-Bay.

They both looked up as the electronic voice announced the floor level.

The elevator doors slid open, and Nash peered across the hall into the facing office. “No bio-hazard symbols, no Med-Techs in scrubs. I’d almost forgotten what normal looks like.”

“Take care, Nash. Next time you’re in the Mech-Bay, find me, and I’ll buy you a beer.” Kalish stepped out into the hall, and the doors slid closed behind him.

Nash settled back against the wall, looked up at the camera and waved. “Hello.”

The elevator stopped. “Sixty-one. Recombinant Genetics Labs. Please have your ID ready.” The doors slid open.

Nash stepped out into the reception area and held up his ID. “Korpes, Nash X., ID W-D-T Nine-Four-Two.”

The receptionist looked up at him. “You’re wanted in exam room four, Tech Korpes.”

“Ma’am.” Room four? Damn. Nash shuddered as he remembered his last session there.

Fifty-foot needles, the Sarcastic voice, teased him.

Shut up, Nash pushed the voice aside. He knocked twice on the door and then entered.

“Ah, Tech Korpes. I’ll be with you in a minute. Feeling better, I trust?” Doctor Blake Huri didn’t look up from his digipad. Something on the small screen flashed, and Blake set the device down on the table in front of him. He scrutinized Nash quietly for a moment. “You look awful.”

“Yes, sir. I apologize for not taking the time to shave. I was running—”

Blake waved his hand. “It’s not important. Sit down.”

Nash sat on the nearest stool and waited to find out why Doctor Kruvic’s chief assistant was so cordial. His eyes flicked to the digipad in front of Blake.

“What I have to tell you is going to come as a massive shock, but I think you need to know.”

The corner of Nash’s mouth curled up into a half-smile. “You’ve discovered I’m a Tyran throwback?” It was out of his mouth before he could stop himself. “Sorry, that was disrespectful. Forgive me.”

Blake pursed his lips. “I don’t like you either, Korpes. Let’s just put that aside for now. Doctor Kruvic gets back in three days, and it doesn’t leave much time.” He faltered as he looked for a way to explain himself.

“Time for what?”

“You’ve been lied to. There is something that can be done about your pain. It appears that the last year and a half has been a test of some sort.”

Nash’s eyebrows shot up. “A test? Explain.” His stomach began to knot.

“I couldn’t find much associated with it. All I had to go on was what was mentioned in a memo I accidentally read.”

“Accidentally?” Nash’s gaze flitted to each of the cameras in the room, but none were active. He turned his attention back to the Med-Tech. “How?”

Blake glared at him. “I’ve almost finished my internship, and they’ll be transferring me somewhere else to complete my doctorate. I knew KMR and D would send Vivienne a notification, and I wanted to know where.”

“So, you hacked into the hub and read her mail?” Nash started to laugh.

Blake flushed. “You really are a jerk, Korpes.”

“I’m not laughing at you. I’ve misjudged you, sir. You stated earlier that you couldn’t find any files associated with this memo? That tells me that you went hunting.”

“I like to be thorough.”

“A question if I may: if there were no files, how do you know something can be done for me?”

Blake grinned in a smug way. “Simple. I came up with the ‘something’. It wasn’t particularly difficult once I looked at all the data we’ve collected on you. Initially, I thought the joint pain and reaction to adrenaline was a psychosomatic aspect of the aversion therapy. I was wrong, it’s not. I’m sorry for not having believed your pain was genuine.”

Nash frowned. “Thanks. So, what’s this all about?”

“It appears to be some sort of test of Tyran regenerative abilities.”

“Not that I don’t trust you, but may I see this memo?”

Blake pointed at a laptop behind him. “I assumed you’d ask.”

Nash stood, then crossed the room. He scanned it, committing the entire piece to memory. Blah, blah, formalities. References extending the study, based on current information, cites genetic markers, referencing the sixth, seeing if regen will be consistent through repeated injury, as it... has in the past? What? When? ‘Continue to withhold treatments for discomfort, may further stimulate— Who the fuck sent this? Nash’s eyes flicked to the bottom, looking for the transit numbers. Special Projects; sent from Nekkaro Station. Classified. This is addressed to Vivienne, but those aren’t her ID tags. I can’t believe she knows about this. His eyes darted to the top of the memo. Dated five days ago. He filed away the numbers for future reference and looked up at Blake.

“Well?”

“You don’t like me. Why help me?”

“Two reasons. First, according to the file, you were put through aversion therapy to make you more manageable. There are drugs that would have accomplished the same results without torturing you. Second, you’re not an ‘Official Subject’. What’s been done to you falls under the heading of egregious medical malpractice. By being associated with this project, I’m complicit. Liking you is irrelevant. This is about giving a patient the best care I can and upholding the oath I swore when I became a doctor.”

Silence settled between them as Nash pondered the facts. Life without pain. “When can we start?”

“Today, but I need to resolve a couple of issues first.”

Nash frowned. “I suppose these ‘issues’ include things you need me to do?”

“Yes. You being kept like this is part of a much larger project and, if I’m discovered to have overtly interfered with you, I risk my future in the Special Projects Division.” Blake held up his hand indicating that Nash should wait. “Don’t worry, I didn’t tell you this to wind you up. I’ll treat you, but you must help me cover my tracks. I know you have the skills for it. I’d like you to erase any traces that I was in the hub, or that I read any of Doctor Kruvic’s mail.”

“Done.”

Are you really going to trust him? The Sarcastic voice asked.

I don’t want to be like this for the rest of my life.

Fool. The Darkness laughed.

Fuck off. Nash tuned them out.

“There’s something more.”

Of course there is, the Darkness hissed.

“And what would that be?” Nash raised an eyebrow.

“Never tell anyone that I had a hand in your recovery.” Blake pointed at a laptop. “Start now and I’ll prep stage one.”

*

“I’ve moved what I need to the old Med-Bay in hydroponics. We won’t be disturbed there. Do you require more time?” Blake checked his watch noting that it was afternoon.

“I’m done. You were never in Doctor Kruvic’s personal files, nor were you in the hub.” Nash grinned broadly as he extracted himself from the network. He stood and stretched. “What now?”

“I have a few details I need to recheck. There’s no need for you to wait. Meet me there in an hour.”

Nash paused and then decided not to comment. “An hour then.” He left the room and made his way back toward the elevator.

“Tech Korpes? This came for you.” The receptionist handed him a data stick, emblazoned with the Pairing Protocol seal.

Oh, great. Another interview. “Thank you, ma’am. When is, it scheduled for?”

Now you have something to read while you’re waiting for Blake.

Shut up. Nash tuned the Sarcastic voice out and waited for her to look it up.

“Monday, eighteen-hundred. They’ve booked you into an interview room on... Oh! You’re in the room on level three. Isn’t that near the hangar?” She looked up at him sympathetically. “That isn’t very romantic.”

“It never is. Thank you, ma’am,” he turned and entered the elevator as the doors slid open. His hand ran over his face and encountered the stubble.

Shower, shave, then meet Blake.

Keep the goatee, it suits you, the Kind voice commented.

Nash smiled at his reflection. It’s not against regs.

What if Blake’s lying? What if he makes you worse?

Nash tried to tune the voice out, but they’d touched on a genuine fear. What if he isn’t? What if he can help me?

He hates you.

What about the memo? I confirmed the tags and I—

Forgery... He’s being transferred to Nekkaro. This is his last chance to fuck with you, the Sarcastic voice laughed.

No, this isn’t his style. He can help me. I checked his notes. His concept is sound. He—

He came up with a treatment in three days. How good can it be?

Nash could feel his stomach begin to churn as his anxiety rose.

What is your evidence? The Darkness demanded.

Nash exited the elevator. My gut. I want to believe.

Then you’re a fool.

*

“Mind if I smoke?” Nash asked as he reached for his cigarettes.

“Yes. Take off your coat.” Blake moved the IV stand closer to the exam table Nash was sitting on and began to unwind the hose line.

Nash eyed the opaque supply bag that hung from it. There was no label. “What’s in the bag, Doctor Huri?”

“Zelat, cut with a basic saline solution. I’ll introduce Vecuronium to the feed when it’s time to put you under.” Blake checked the pump then turned to face his patient.

“Zelat?!

“It’s the only option. Your metabolism will be working against me during this procedure. I needed something that would hit you hard and keep you under for at least six hours. Stage two is where I sever a small number of neurons running to your colys gland—”

Nash balked. “Wait a minute. That wasn’t in your notes. You only mentioned a non-invasive treatment on my amygdala,” his eyes strayed to the door, as he considered his options.

Run.

“The colys gland is responsible for your healing ability, if I don’t deal with it, you won’t be pain-free while you heal.” He followed Nash’s gaze to the door and understood. “I spent the last hour confirming my findings. I have the results right here if you want to check them.” He handed his digipad over. “It sounds worse than it is.” Blake adjusted the settings on the overhead neural scanner. “Stage three involves me working on your amygdala; I can’t undo the psychological aspects of the aversion therapy, but I know I can undo the physical modifications they made and make it look natural. You’ll still have to avoid things that cause a large adrenal response, but routine exercise and your usual fits of temper shouldn’t trigger you anymore.”

Nash scanned all the files and committed them to memory.

“Have you changed your mind?”

Yes. After a minute, Nash shook his head. He gave Blake the digipad back.

“Lie down and give me your arm.”

Nash complied but looked away. Fifty-foot needles— Think of something else. “So, are you happy with where they’re sending you?”

“Nekkaro Station is one of KMR and D’s finest genetic research facilities. It’s actually better than I’d hoped for. Hold still.”

Nash inhaled sharply as the needle slid beneath his skin. “You need to work on your technique.”

“I didn’t train for ten years to become a phlebotomist.” Blake taped the hose down and then turned the nozzle on. “Let me know when you feel an effect.”

*

Blake checked the levels on the bag and frowned. “Are you sure you’re not feeling anything yet?”

“No, but you know a lot of things don’t work on me. Maybe Zelat is one of those things?”

Blake turned the drip up. “It works on everyone. No exceptions. I’ll come back in five minutes.”

Nash closed his eyes. Please let this day be over. He let his attention drift and remembered his dream. I wonder if that’s what space is like? He allowed himself to re-experience what he could recall, focusing on the last part to take the fear out of it. Falling or re-entry. It’s all a matter of perspective and control. He felt something move across him, wrapping him in a comforting embrace. A smug sense of achievement spread through him as he reflected on what he and Ed had accomplished. I wonder if it’ll make the newsfeed here?

“Tech Korpes? Can you hear me?”

A tingling sensation on his arm brought him back to the present. There was no pain, and warmth emanated from his chest. This. Is. Great. It had been so long since he’d felt good. Nash giggled out loud as the voices chimed in with gibberish. You’re all stoned too! Ha.

“I take it you’re feeling something?”

“Yep.” He attempted to sit up and found he couldn’t. “I seem to be paralyzed.”

Blake drew into view. “I’ve strapped you down. Try moving your left arm, it’s still free.”

Nash watched with amusement as his hand seemed to levitate, pulling his arm up off the bed like a string behind it. “While you’re up there, wave,” he called out to it. His hand twitched, and then his arm dropped to his side. Good enough. “I’m feeling— Yeah, stoned Doc. Feeling, I am.”

“I hope so; you’re burning through this a lot faster than I anticipated. We need to begin now.” Blake connected a second bag to the hose and turned the valve. “Start counting backward from one hundred.”

“One hundred, ninety-nine, ninety-eight, ninety-seven— Forty-Six, forty-five, veno-fores, veno-tanye,” Nash switched over to his native Diasporan slang and started to laugh.

Blake adjusted the valve for the Vecuronium, and Nash’s world went black.

*

“Tech Korpes, wake up. I need you to open your eyes for me.” Blake checked Nash’s vitals a second time. Damn you, now is not the time to catch up on your sleep. His digipad beeped, but he ignored it. Yes, I know you’re back. “Nash! Wake up.” Blake slapped him in frustration.

“Ow.”

“Wake up. Vivienne— Doctor Kruvic’s back early, and she’s called an emergency meeting. I have to go.” His statement was punctuated by another beep from his digipad. “She’s been paging me for the last twenty minutes. C’mon, I need you to open your eyes so I can verify you’re okay.”

Nash opened his eyes and squinted at him. “My glasses handy?”

Blake handed them to him. “You’ll still be groggy from the Vecuronium, but it’ll pass.” He leaned in and shone a light into Nash’s right eye. “Good pupil response.” He moved it over to the left. “Good. Everything checks out. The procedure was successful. You’ll start to feel the effects in a couple weeks. Remain prone for another two hours and give the drugs a chance to clear your system before you go anywhere. I’d move you back to your room—” The digipad beeped again, but this time Blake took the call. “Doctor Kruvic? I wasn’t expecting you back until Friday. Is every— Yes, ma’am. Sorry, I didn’t hear my digipad, I was in the shower. I’m on my way now.” Blake disconnected and stuffed the device into his coat pocket. He made his way over to the sink on the far wall and turned the water on. “Best keep up appearances, eh Korpes?” Blake bent over, wet his hair down, then ran his fingers through it. “I’ll tell them you’re indisposed.”

“Thank you, for everything.” Nash shut his eyes again.

“You’re welcome.” Blake closed the door behind him.

*

Something furry caressed his cheek. Nash’s eyes snapped open. Dark. Where the hell am I? Another something skittered across his chest and landed on his hand. He jerked it away, and the motion triggered the Med-Bay lights to activate. He was not alone. “Gah!” Nash flung himself off the gurney and crashed onto the floor. A dozen silverii went with him and scurried for cover. He didn’t wait to see if there were more; he leaped to his feet and ran for the door. Nash had made it halfway through the hydroponic garden before he was sick.

Fear, significant adrenal response... crap. Nash leaned heavily against a support strut as he composed himself. I should check to see if they bit me, I don’t want to get an infection. He stripped off his t-shirt and was half-way out of his jeans before it occurred to him that he was in a public area. Maybe not an ideal location... Gods, I’m still stoned! He checked his watch, Twenty-two hundred. Only maintenance crews on now... Should be safe.

“Nash?”

He turned at the sound of his name, his jeans caught around his knees, and he sprawled backward into the garden. “Hi.” Nash couldn’t think of anything else to say. A familiar face came into view.

“What the hell?” Kalish looked from his semi-clad friend to the patch of vomit. “Let me call a Med-Tech.” He grabbed the t-shirt off the ground and pulled Nash out of the plants.

“No. I’m okay. Help me back to my room. I just need to sleep this off.”

“Sleep it off?” As Kalish handed him his shirt then leaned in close to get a good look at his eyes. “Drunk, or stoned?”

“Neither, technically,” Nash scrambled for a non-lie. “I’m reacting to some meds. It’ll pass.” He felt itchy and wasn’t sure if it was a reaction to the plants, bites, or his imagination. “I’m glad you’re here, I need to ask a favor.”

“Anything.”

“Would you check me over? I might miss something, and that would be bad.” Nash pulled his jeans up and did up the belt. He dropped the t-shirt and stooped to retrieve it, resisting the urge to vomit again as the motion triggered his vertigo.

“Check? What am I looking for?”

“Bites. I passed out in the Med-Bay down here, not knowing the lights are on timers. I may have acquired some Silverii bites.” Nash donned his shirt.

“Your room or mine?” Kalish grinned wickedly.

“Mine. Less chance of gossip” Nash chuckled. “Sorry, I know I’m no fun. Would you settle for a flat of beer as payment for your time?” Nash took a step, and everything wobbled. He clutched at a support strut to steady himself. “I better sit down.” He slid to the ground and leaned against the cold metal.

Kalish reached over and put his hand on Nash’s forehead. “You’re on fire. Are you sure you don’t want me to call someone?”

Nash shook his head. “It’ll pass, thanks. I just need to rest for a few minutes.” Nash looked up at his friend. “I’ll understand if you can’t wait.”

Kalish sat down on the walkway with him. “For you, my friend, I’ve got all night.”

***

3. Junelle Station

Nash felt sorry for the girl sitting across from him and knew from her expression that she wanted to be there even less than he did. Time to get it over with. “Hi, I’m Nash Korpes.”

“Hello, I’m Rozwyn Kuld,” she replied, quietly.

Nash looked over at the large, one-way mirror and addressed the team of observers that lurked behind it. “There you go. Not only has she set an interview record by remaining longer than a minute, but she satisfied the preliminary meet and greet section by introducing herself and acknowledging my presence. Please spare us the embarrassment of going through the rest of this shit; let her reject me and go home. Making her sit here is cruel, even for you people.” Nash could feel them staring, and today it got on his last nerve. As he waited for a response, he glanced at the young woman.

Roz’s silent desperation saturated the room, and it hurt him to know he was the cause.

Nash focused his outrage and glared at the one-way mirror. “Look at her! It’s obvious she doesn’t want to be here. Let her go.”

“I’ll stay.”

Nash blinked in surprise. He’d heard those words twice before, and both times it had ended horrifically.

Roz made eye contact with him and didn’t flinch.

“Speak into the microphone please, Ms. Kuld.” The disembodied voice made them both jump.

Nash bestowed a look of utter contempt on those behind the one-way mirror, then turned back to Roz.

Her hazel-brown eyes held a volatile mix of fear and fury.

Please don’t look at me like that. I’m trying to get you out of here. Nash felt like he was drowning as he sought to find a way to save the situation. “Why? I can tell you’re miserable.” He softened his tone when she looked down. “Regardless of what they’ve said, you don’t have to do this. You can say no. Then they’ll find someone much better for you. Trust me.” He smiled and tried his best to get a positive response.

Roz leaned forward. “I’ll stay.” It was loud enough for the microphones to pick up this time.

Nash could sense the activity behind the mirror and panicked. “You don’t have to do this, really.” Another possibility occurred to him. Duress? Nash stood abruptly. “Let’s go for a walk; it’s allowed.” He spoke directly to Roz, ignoring their unseen audience. He made his way to the exit and held the door open for her. Once she was through, Nash made a rude gesture at the people behind the mirror and slammed the door shut.

To their credit, the guards stationed outside let them pass and made no effort to follow.

Thank the Gods for small miracles. Nash was still upset, but his anger was rapidly being replaced with concern. He could feel the discomfort radiating off Roz, and he didn’t know what to do. He walked beside her, keeping both hands in his pockets. Nash ducked and gracefully passed under a support beam, and they continued down the hall until they came to a junction in the passage. He stopped. “The one to the left leads to the main hangar.”

Roz stared down the dark corridor. Her body language shifted as she tensed, and her expression grew wary. “Hangar?”

Nash stepped back slightly, lifting his hands in a placating gesture. “Don’t worry, it’s a public area, and at this time of day, it’s crowded. I’m only suggesting it because it’ll be harder for anyone to eavesdrop.”

Roz nodded, and they walked on, each isolated by their own thoughts until they reached their destination.

Nash directed her to an observation area that overlooked the entire bay and broke the silence first. “Look, it’s obvious you don’t want this to go any further. I understand, and it’s okay, really. What’s up? Who’s making you do this? If they told you that you don’t have a choice, they lied.”

Roz looked up at him and studied his face before she spoke. “I’ve already used my three vetoes. I don’t have any left. I’m sorry that I didn’t have a nicer way to say that.”

“Actually, it’s a relief to finally find out that other guys get rejected too. I appreciate you telling me that straight up. Thanks.”

Roz frowned at him, not trusting his response. “Being rejected doesn’t bother you?”

Nash shrugged. “When it happens a lot, you grow a thicker skin.”

Roz looked away, taking in their surroundings.

You can’t turn me down. Part of Nash couldn’t believe his luck. The rest of him didn’t think it was luck. Set-up. “So, what do you want to do?”

“I said I’d stay.” Though the answer was immediate, the flat tone betrayed the fact her heart wasn’t in it.

No eye-contact this time, Nash followed her gaze out into the main hangar. He found himself hoping that she’d relent and give him a chance. What the hell is wrong with me? He suppressed the urge to touch her. “You don’t really want to, though, do you?”

Roz left a universe unspoken.

“If it were your choice?” Nash bit his tongue, he didn’t want to hear the answer out loud, but it had to be asked. The sooner this was resolved, the better for it would be for everyone.

She looked up at him; her frustration was punctuated by her frown. “You seem nice enough, but ...”

“Yeah. That’s what I figured. Thanks for being kind.” Nash knew what the ‘but’ meant. He looked at himself in the mirror every day. I’m a real prize.

He reflected on the other two who’d said yes. Curiosity? Orders more likely. He hoped they’d been well compensated for their trauma. Both encounters had been short and utterly humiliating. That had been four years ago, and everyone had rejected him since. This girl would make it thirty-four times they’d tried to match him with someone. He’d become something of a legend for this distinction, the gossip followed him everywhere, and he hated the fact that the whispers still had the power to hurt him.

Nash looked up and noted that some of the cameras in the area were now active. Fucking spies. “Let me give you a tour of Junelle. Over here is the machine works.” Where the high-frequency sounds play havoc with the surveillance system. He led her over to where they were working on repairing a military train engine. “So, what do you do for a living?” Nash asked a general question as they crossed the open area between locations. He was interested, and it didn’t matter if it was overheard.

“I’m an artist, I paint.”

“Are you any good?”

“I’ve managed to sell a lot of my work and three pieces hang in the Sharo Art Gallery in Ribal.”

“I’ve always admired people that can create like that. I have no artistic or musical talent. Can I ask you about your family?” Nash led the way between the busy work bays.

“If you’re interested.”

“Do you have any Tyran ancestry?”

“Yes. It only shows in my blood-type and some genetic anomalies— But I’m not a throwback,” she added quickly.

Nash flushed and looked down.

“I’m sorry, that was thoughtless of me,” Roz said, trying to take back some of the sting.

“No problem,” Nash lost himself in his own thoughts. Anomalies. Since being stationed at Junelle, Nash had met many of the throwbacks from the other groups, and he’d observed a trend. Now his theory had more traction. If all his interviews had been engineered by KMR and D, then there was a chance his progeny were destined for the Rec-Gen labs. But only if I agree to the match. Damn it. Nash glanced down at her and had to admit that they’d done a fantastic job of selecting someone that would appeal to him. She wasn’t classically beautiful, but she had something that drew him to her like a moth to flame. Nash would have given anything to have been someone else, someone acceptable, and someone who had a clue about what to do next.

Roz shifted from one foot to the other. She was growing uncomfortable under the scrutiny.

Shit. Now I’m scaring her. “Sorry for staring. I know it’s creepy, but you’ve probably already noticed I’m not adept at this social crap and, well— You’re very pretty. I, uh—”

The Kind voice came to his rescue. Take her somewhere she’d find interesting.

“Let’s keep moving. The research gardens and hydroponics are this way.” Nash suggested through a nervous smile.

Could you be any more pathetic? The Sarcastic voice chimed in.

Shut up! Nash tried to tune it out.

She’s a sure thing, but you’ll screw this up. You know you will. Just wait until she gets you in the—

“Thank you for the compliment – apology accepted. Why did you ask about my heritage? Everything is in my file, didn’t you read it?” Roz’s voice pulled Nash away from his internal argument.

He blinked, focusing on what he’d last said to her. “Uh. No, I didn’t. I just wanted to confirm my suspicions.”

“Suspicions?”

Nash stepped off to the side of the corridor to explain. “You’ve been honest with me, so I’ll return the favor. After I had been picked up by the prodigy screening, I was assigned to the Rec-Gen labs. I thought it was because of my IQ and memory, but it turned out that it was my ancestry. That was the first time I’d heard the term ‘throwback’.” Nash sighed, “Anyway, I’ve observed things in the files of the people that were selected for me, and it’s always the same. It all comes down to them having the old Tyran blood-type and the two markers I happen to be missing. Three-quarters of the labs here are tied to genetic research. I’m officially assigned to the Special Projects Division, but I spend ninety percent of my time in Rec-Gen. There are Ebo, Drakkar, and Birlo throwbacks working here as well—” He stopped, as it occurred to him what they could do with all that DNA. He pictured a tall, muscular, dark-skinned blond with silver blue eyes, floating in a suspension tank. If it gets any of my personality traits, there will be trouble. Nash grinned as he visualized the myriad outcomes.

“What’s so funny?” It was the first-time Roz had seen him smile and not look nervous.

“They’re probably trying to hybridize a super soldier from the best traits of each group, or something equally—” Roz’s horrified expression made him regret having shared his daydream. “I’m sorry. Regardless of what your job description says, if you’re Diasporan, you are part of the research and development in some capacity.” He paused then smiled, trying to re-establish her good will, and breathed a sigh of relief when she smiled back.

Nash started walking again, indicating the doors at the end of the hall. “I think you’ll find this interesting.” He typed in a code to open the personnel access to the hydroponics dome, then led the way into a small chamber. The door slid shut behind them. “It’ll take a minute for the system to scan us for contaminates. Don’t worry, it won’t hurt.” He put his arms up, and Roz imitated him as a band of light slid down their bodies.

“Clear,” a voice over the intercom announced and the access light came on.

“After you.” Nash indicated the way out.

They wandered out onto a large stone balcony that overlooked the main gardens. Elaborate latticework supported the sections that had the floor to ceiling growth. The lights were shifting to the end of the day cycle, and in the gloom, the upper reaches of the dome weren’t visible.

Roz stopped and stared up into the dark. “This is incredible.” She inhaled the rich scent of the air and sighed.

“Junelle, Parlos, and Sandyn Stations supply just over forty-five percent of the food that Korlune requires. I’ve seen images of Sandyn, and their gardens are four times this size. They had to design a new type of dome—” His voice trailed off as he realized he was talking to fill the void. Nash watched as Roz bent to sniff a pink colored bloom.

She doesn’t want to hear about domes, moron.

A sad smile graced Nash’s lips. I know. He turned and climbed up onto the wide, stone railing behind them, then helped her up next to him. Both noted the contact, but neither spoke, choosing instead to take in the view. Nash hugged his knees to his chest and stared out over the garden, reflecting on the revelations of the last hour. Genetics. Funny, it all makes sense now. It’s always been there for me to see; I guess I just didn’t want to. His two previous encounters took on a new light. It was depressing, but the negative experiences had done him a favor. You can’t grieve the loss of something you’ve never known. Time to accept that and move on.

*

Roz sat next to him and studied him discreetly in the silence. Nash was not what she was expecting. She’d read the file and had been terrified of the prospect of meeting him. She reflected on their introduction and their time in the interview room. He’d been angry, and it had supported what was documented, but now, she found herself questioning her first response. Now, his anger seemed rational and fit the situation. Now that she’d talked to him, she didn’t find him frightening at all. He’d been honest, sweet even, and she found herself liking him despite what she’d read.

“Can I call you Nash?”

“Yes.”

“You can call me Roz.”

*

“Thank you, Roz.” He smiled but didn’t look at her. “You shortened your name?”

“Yes. Rozwyn’s an old family name,” she said with a degree of resignation.

“I understand completely.” He was grinning now. “My middle name is Xander, and I’ve taken flack for it over the years. I don’t tell people what the X stands for anymore.”

Silence descended on them again.

The Sarcastic voice prompted him this time. Talk to her, you idiot.

About what?

Anything.

“Do you know the tradition behind our names?”

“It’s a way of remembering the Tyran houses that fell during the final war?”

“Almost. Korlo history would have us believe that the old families died out, but the truth is we were stripped of our surnames and forced to take new ones when we lost to the Birlo. My sister and I were lucky; my grandmother knew the old stories and believed they were important enough to share. Giving someone their real family name each generation is, in fact, an act of defiance.”

“There should be a rule that states they aren’t allowed to assign it as a first name,” she blurted out, hotly.

Her comment caught him off guard, and he laughed. While he understood the importance of the tradition, he sympathized. He turned, she was smiling too. You did that to get a response... Gods, you’re beautiful. For a moment, he was transfixed. He would have sold his soul to make things work without any thought to the consequences.

Roz stared at him, equally mesmerized.

Nash got flustered first and looked away, blushing. “Sorry... Staring... Creepy ...”

“Why didn’t you read my file?”

He had to take a moment to recover himself. What the hell is wrong with me?

How long do we have to draft the list? The Sarcastic voice replied.

Shut up. Nash pushed himself to make eye-contact with her again. “Experience has taught me it’s easier to deal with the no when you don’t know what you’re missing. I haven’t read a file in over three years. It’s not personal.”

“I read your file.”

“I’ve read my file too. Based on its contents, I’d reject myself in a heartbeat.”

“I’m starting to suspect that the information in it isn’t entirely accurate.” Roz watched him carefully, knowing she’d struck something. “It isn’t, is it Nash?”

He looked away, choosing not to answer; rejection was easier to take when you didn’t feel naked as well. He’d learned that the hard way.

Roz reflected on their exchanges, allowing silence to descend on them again. “What if I were to say yes to this arrangement?”

“Please, don’t tease me. Not on this subject. You don’t want this match; you’ve already said it. You just think you’re stuck with me. There are ways around it.”

“What if I said yes?” She pressed the point.

“Stop.” Nash turned back to face her. He searched her face for any sign that she was just having a go at him to be cruel. After an eternal minute, he decided the risk was worth it. “If we were in a Diaspora, this situation would be a lot easier to deal with. You could be rid of me once the kids were born by citing extenuating circumstances; no magistrate would argue the point once they got a look at me. If you didn’t want to raise the children, then my family would take them in.”

Tell her how you feel, or you’ll regret it forever. The Kind voice prompted.

Nash took a deep breath, resigning himself to his fate. “Know this— If we were both in the Diaspora, I’d swim Lake Evora if it meant that you’d consider me as a real prospect.”

Naked now. Feel better?

Yes. Nash answered the Sarcastic voice before continuing. “Sadly, I’m not. Things with me are never normal, and I’m here. Accepting this match means you would be trapped here with me.” He stared at her, and the dam burst. Things he’d never said out loud fought to be heard. “Roz, I hate my life, I’ve hated it since I was thirteen. I wouldn’t wish this on someone I detest, why would I condemn someone I love to it? I’m not that selfish—” He paused as what he’d just voiced sank in. “No, I can’t lie to you. What I really, really want to hear is a ‘yes’, to have you mean it, but I can’t ask for that. I don’t want to be alone for the rest of my life, but this isn’t only about what I want. It’s about what’s right.” He hung his head unable to continue.

*

She admired his fearlessness. She found she admired a lot about him when she reflected on the time they’d spent walking and talking. Roz took a closer look at Nash as he stared down at the gardens and weighed what she’d read against what she’d been shown. A small smile crept across her face when she remembered his offer to swim Lake Evora to win her attention. Brave and romantic. I can still claim extenuating circumstances, he said as much... but... Roz shook her head. It wasn’t the answer.

*

Nash didn’t attempt to fill the void in the conversation. He had nothing left to say. He’d buried his loneliness well, but the depth that he’d felt it when he spoke it out loud to Roz, had shocked him. When you leave, that’s it. He could feel the weight of her gaze and turned to meet it. She didn’t appear uncomfortable; it was more an expression of curiosity.

“Your eyes are actually green, aren’t they?” she’d never met someone with green eyes before. The artist in her studied the young man in front of her.

“Uh— Yes?”

“I wish I had green eyes, they’re beautiful!” Roz drew in closer to get a better look.

Nash just about fell off the railing and had to brace himself quickly. He stared at her in disbelief.

“Are you okay? What’s wrong?” She’d not expected a reaction.

“No one has ever made that observation.”

“You’re kidding? Apparently, no one has looked at your eyes properly then,” she leaned in closer and caught herself staring. She realized that she was making him uncomfortable now. “All of your coloring is remarkable. I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone as blond as you, up close... May I?” She indicated that she wanted to touch his hair.

No one’s ever asked to do that before. Nash wasn’t sure what to do, so he leaned down. Roz slowly ran her fingers through it, the texture was much softer than she’d expected. He closed his eyes, leaning into her hand and enjoying the sensation of being touched. Nash pretended that he was the person she wanted.

They both heard the air filtration systems click over into the night cycle mode. Within a few minutes, the temperature within the dome dropped tangibly.

Roz shivered and moved closer, wrapping her arms around his waist in an attempt to get warmer.

Whoa. Nash wasn’t sure what to do. Few people touched him voluntarily and she’d now done it three times. It took him a moment to realize he was holding his breath. He exhaled slowly, trying not to be obvious. Yes. This close, the fact she wore perfume became evident, and it was wonderful. It made him slightly light-headed. He hesitantly put his arm around her shoulders and was surprised when instead of flinching, she cuddled in closer. Perfect. He committed the scene to memory.

They sat in silence as the garden shifted into the night cycle and the atmospheric sprayers activated. Neither of them had ever experienced real rain. Topside, all water was acidic.

Roz shivered. She was getting colder.

Nash slid out of his lab coat and wrapped it gently around her before putting his arm around her shoulders again.

She snuggled closer.

He desperately wanted to kiss her, but didn’t dare; the moment was too fragile, and it would only add more to his problem. “Would you like to go and get coffee? It might help you warm up.” He was soaked to the skin, but his senses were entirely focused on Roz and where she was touching him.

“No. Not just yet— I like this, it’s peaceful, and you’re keeping me warm.” She pressed closer and shut her eyes. “Yes, I like this.” Roz murmured as she focused on the sound of his heart beating. It was comforting.

Peaceful? No. More like amazing. Nash sat there, trying to stop time using sheer willpower.

She’s just making the best of a situation she feels trapped in, the Sarcastic voice reminded him.

The truth was a bullet. The fragile moment shattered. Nash remembered the expression in her eyes when they first met, and he knew that if he saw it again, it would kill him. “So, about our problem. I have a solution.” He felt like someone had punched him in the chest.

“What do you mean?” Roz asked.

“It’s simple. I’ve never used my vetoes, so, I’ll give you one of mine. For the sake of the paperwork, I’ll reject the match.” The pain in his chest grew with every word, and he realized that what he was feeling was his heartbreak. He had no idea that something non-physical could hurt so much. What’s the matter with me? I just met her... things don’t happen this fast! Even as he thought it, he knew it wasn’t true. She was different. His heart was telling him she was.

“You’d actually do that for me?” Roz was astonished. She shifted her position, so she could see his face.

“Yes. It’s the best course of action. Neither the Pairing Protocol nor KMR and D can block a veto. Let’s go get it sorted right now. If I get the paperwork done tonight, you can be on a train out of here and home within the next couple of days.” He looked down at her, wishing a final time that he was the someone she wanted. Nash lost himself in her eyes, he could feel where she was pressed against him. She was warm, and her hand was now resting on his upper thigh. Oh, shit! Gotta move - now. Without his lab coat, his erection was obvious, and it had just become painful on several levels.

Roz watched him as he swung around and slid off the railing. She imagined going home, waiting and then meeting the next person selected, and it struck her. She knew she’d met the one she was interested in. She was looking at him now. Roz came to a decision and smiled. “Yes, this could work.” She handed him back his coat. “Thank you.”

Nash helped her off the railing, then turned away as he slid the lab coat back on. It’s for the best. He was cold, wet and trying his best to not look as utterly destroyed as he felt.

“You’re serious about this?”

“Yes, and for the record, I think you’re putting the veto to excellent use.” He looked over his shoulder at her and forced a smile.

Roz took his hand, halting his march toward the door.

“Stop for a minute, Nash— I’m saying yes. You asked me earlier if I’d be willing to give you a chance. In the last hour of talking to you, you’ve shown me, someone, I’d like to get to know better.” She stepped closer. “What you’re offering to do for me now is so incredibly noble. I’m afraid that you’ve sealed your fate. I accept this match.”

“Uh. What?” Nash stared at her, confused, then what she’d said filtered through into reality. “Really?” The pain in his chest, evaporated, only to be replaced by anxiety as the full meaning registered. “No, wait! Seriously, that’s an appalling idea. I’ve already explained why.”

“You can’t live your life not daring to reach for things you want because of the unknown. That’s not living! That’s letting them win! I say we don’t let them! We have six months to get to know each other before things are finalized, but I already know I like you, and it’s only been a couple of hours.” She reached up and kissed him softly on the lips.

Nash was speechless. He fought valiantly to maintain the logical course, but his resolve crumbled as he looked down at her. She’d said yes. Romantic optimism swept away the last vestiges of caution or doubt.

“Do you want to give this a chance?” she asked.

“Do I still have to swim Lake Evora to prove my intent? I think I have more to offer you in the long run if I’m alive.”

Roz giggled, then shook her head.

They left the gardens, holding hands, in search of a hot cup of coffee and something for dinner.

Nash privately wondered which of the Gods now owned his soul, so he took the precaution of thanking them all.

***

4. Junelle Station

“What’s the word?” Kalish yelled up but didn’t get a response. “Nash?” He climbed up the ladder and clambered out onto the metal scaffold that surrounded their latest project. “Nash?”

The blond tech was nowhere in sight.

Kalish walked out onto the wing of the transport, avoiding the sections that were etched with water damage. He paused to take in the entire view when he finally spotted Nash, crouched over the engine cowling. The transport’s outer hull was breached in sections. Mist rose from other areas that had come into direct contact with the rain. A dull clank of metal on concrete confirmed his fear that the ship was still dissolving. Kalish carefully picked his path out to where the blond tech was perched.

“Hmm?” Nash looked up from the diagnostic pad he was holding and removed the headset.

“What’s the prognosis, oh mighty tech-god?”

“Give this thing last rites. There’s too much damage to the airframe and the engines. The digi-link system is completely fried, as well. Pull the hard-link systems out and then ship the rest to be recycled.” Nash logged his time and then tucked the device into his pocket. “I’ve never seen rain damage this bad. What happened?”

“Word is, they caught the edge of a storm that spun off Lake Evora, yesterday. The pilot and his passenger were taken to the Med-Bay.”

“I hope they’re in better shape than their transport.” Nash paused to look at his watch, then swung himself over the railing and down. A grateful smile graced his lips when his feet touched the floor. No pain... Two months ago and I wouldn’t have been able to do that. “Anything else you need a tech to sign off on while I’m here?”

“No. Thanks, Nash, this was the last of it. I appreciate you coming in on your own time to help out.” Kalish slid off the wing and landed in a crouch. “This storm has us scrambling right now, and most of our Techs are at Sandyn, helping to repair the dome maintenance systems. Got time for a beer, or do you have to dash?”

“I always have time for a—” Nash’s digipad beeped. “Sorry, I’d better take this.”

Kalish pursed his lips. “Roz checking up on you?”

Nash leaned up against the wall and read the text a second time just to make sure he hadn’t misunderstood. Three month’s leave. They’re letting us go home.

“You’re grinning again. What did she say?” Kalish tried to peek at the screen.

“My leave came through. Once we get the ‘all clear’ from the Med-Techs, we’re allowed to go.” Nash wiped a tear from the corner of his eye. “Excuse me for a minute, I’ve got to let Roz know.” He punched in the extension to her digipad, and it went straight to messages. “Hey, Roz. You’re probably still with Doctor Kruvic, but I wanted to let you know that they’ve granted my leave. All we need is to update our shots, and then we can go. Call me when you’re ready, and we’ll do something special to celebrate.”

“Thank you for sparing me the pet names, I’d probably vomit.” Kalish motioned like he was gagging, then winked. “Just kidding. It’s actually kind of cute. I’m happy if you’re happy, really— You are happy, right?” The tone of his voice shifted to match the seriousness of the question.

Nash studied his friend for a moment, before answering. “Yeah, I am. I never thought this would happen and now that it has, I don’t have the words to describe it.”

Kalish patted him affectionately on the arm. “Good enough for me. When were you last home?”

“Eight years ago.”

“What— You’re kidding?” Kalish raised an eyebrow.

“Nope.”

“You told Roz you wanted to celebrate, and I happen to owe you a beer. C’mon, let me buy you that drink. I’m sure she won’t mind if you start a bit early.”

*

“She’s responded extremely well to the follicle stimulating hormone. I’ve managed to harvest nine eggs. If she continues to produce like this over the next year, we’ll have all the material we need for phase three.” Doctor Vivienne Kruvic covered her patient up. “Do you have her blood work ready yet? Doctor Maro put a rush on it.”

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve taken the liberty of forwarding the files to Doctor Maro, already.”

“I’m going to miss you, Blake. Selwyn is lucky to be getting you.”

A soft groan drew their attention to the young woman on the gurney.

“Rozwyn? Can you hear me?” Vivienne learned over Roz and opened one of her eyes. She adjusted the scanner and watched as Roz’s pupil dilated appropriately. “She’s starting to wake up. Move her back to my exam room; there’s no need to alarm her by having her wake up here. I’ll place the samples in cryoprotectants to prep them for vitrification and join you presently.”

Blake released the brakes on the wheels and pushed the hospital gurney through the double doors. He looked down as she stirred and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Roz’s eyes flickered open for a moment, and she squinted, trying to block out the full spectrum lights. “Everything’s so bright.” Her eyes shut again.

“You’re dreaming. The tests made you sleepy, but everything’s fine. Just rest.” He used the remote to summon the elevator and slid the gurney through the doors as they opened. Blake pushed the button for the sixty-first floor, then allowed himself to lean heavily against the padded wall. Not what I signed on for.

Blake backed out of the elevator, pulling the gurney gently behind him. “Doctor Blake Huri, ID number four seven two seven.” He flashed the badge at the camera but didn’t look up. “Patient, Rozwyn Kuld. Diasporan civilian: file link, Nine-Four-Two-a.” He backed down the hall and into Vivienne’s office. “It’s okay, this is almost over.” He muttered as he transferred her onto the exam table. Blake lifted her head and tucked a pillow under it, then set up the IV bags on the attached stand. “Rest. Doctor Kruvic was called away, but she’ll be back soon. She won’t mind if you have a little nap.”

“Thirsty—”

“I’ll bring you some water. Stay still. I’ll be right back.” Blake pushed the gurney out of the room and left it in the corridor for an intern to pick up. Where is everyone? Blake strode up the hall, to the closest vend-o-mat, selected a bottle of water and a Jalat. He sipped his choice and instantly regretted it. Blake forced himself to finish it and tossed the cup in the recycler.

The main monitor was active and broadcasting news of the latest terrorist attack. Two interns stood mesmerized in front of the screen, debating who was responsible.

“Hey! Doctor Kruvic will have a fit if she sees that gurney outside her office when she gets back.” Blake smiled, but there was no warmth to it. “Catch up on the news on your own time.” Blake watched as the two young men scurried past him to comply. He waited until they were out of sight before he returned to the exam room.

“Here’s your water. Sorry, I took so long—  Hey there. You shouldn’t be sitting up yet. Give yourself a bit of time to come around.”

Roz sipped it then handed the bottle back. “I’m not sure what’s wrong with me. I feel so cold. I fell asleep?”

Blake draped a spare lab coat around her shoulders and settled her back again. “It’s a typical reaction to the test – we should have warned you. What you need now is some dinner and a good night’s rest.” He walked over to a glass cabinet and chose a small vial from the back row. Blake shook it as he approached the IV stand. “This will help, too.” He filled a syringe with the pale blue contents and then injected it into her IV.

“What is it?” Roz sat up again, to see more.

“Doctor Maro went over your tests from last month and determined you were suffering from Phagostyrma. Don’t worry, it’s something young women with Tyran blood type are susceptible to; it’s another name for anemia This is a mixture he’s devised just for you. It will fix the problem. Lie back for a few more minutes, and I promise you’ll start to feel better.” Blake adjusted the pillow and smiled down at her.

“Thank you, Doctor Huri. I can see why Nash likes you.”

Blake didn’t answer. He patted her shoulder and turned away.

*

Vivienne slid the last of the specimen trays into the small freezer and coded in her personal ID to seal it. She glanced at the Lab-Tech closest to her, “Ensure that this is delivered directly to Doctor Maro when you reach Nekkaro Station.”

“Yes, Doctor Kruvic, I’ll attend to it myself. Forgive me, ma’am, are you alright?

“Yes. I’m simply tired.” She lied. Even the brief exposure to the cold made her hands ache. The pain was now radiating up her arms. No! I don’t have time for this. “I’ll leave this with you. Message me when everything else is packed for shipment.”

“Certainly, Doctor Kruvic.”

Vivienne looked over the lab a final time then stepped into the adjoining workroom and shut the door behind her. She held her hands up and watched as they shook. Enough. Vivienne extracted a small, opaque glass container from the pocket of her lab coat and looked for something to take the medication with. She swallowed two capsules then sat on the stool by the research station. It had been weeks since her last treatment, and now she was paying for her lack of diligence. Selwyn will be furious that I’ve pushed it this long. Pain flared in every joint, and she winced as she leaned against the counter. Even in her discomfort, she managed a self-satisfied smile. It’ll pass, and soon we’ll have our cure. She bent forward until her head rested on her arm and closed her eyes.

*

A wall of sound hit them as they opened the doors to the canteen. The rhythmic bass of the dance music pulled at them as they joined the sea of movement inside. The darkness was punctuated by flashes that played out across the high ceiling like lightning, synchronized to the beat. The bar was an island of light along the far wall, and they pushed their way through the crowd to reach it.

Shelter from the storm. Nash understood the urge to find distractions from the severe weather outside, especially after what happened at Sandyn. He noted there was military personnel in the crowd, dancing, and it made him uneasy. The rumors about the trouble must be true then. Damn news blackouts. I’ll check the BBS later and see what’s going on. “It’s busy tonight,” Nash yelled as he slid past a couple who were dancing. He claimed a spot at the bar.

Kalish squeezed in next to him and cupped his hand to his ear. “What?”

Nash grinned and made a small series of gestures with his right hand, signing out the words ‘busy’ and ‘loud’.

The Ebo Mech nodded and caught the bartender’s attention. He signaled for beer and held up two fingers. He leaned in closer to Nash. “Care to dance?”

Nash shook his head, grinning. “We’ll lose our place here, besides,” he pointed at someone standing behind Kalish. “I’m not nearly graceful enough – but I think Tim’s up to the task.”

Kalish turned and looked the man up and down, slowly. “Your loss, Tim’s gain. Don’t put anything in my drink while I’m gone,” he shouted back over his shoulder.

“Your beer is safe with me,” Nash yelled back and watched his friend melt into the crowd. Roz likes this song. He let the infectious beat wash over him as he checked his messages. Still nothing? Something cold touched his arm and made him jump.

“Sorry.” The bartender signed after he set their drinks down.

“No problem.” He signed back. Even sitting at the bar, it was hard to hear what was said unless you raised your voice. I’ll never hear a call over this. Nash put in an earpiece, connected it to his digipad, and then tucked the device into his breast pocket. He sipped idly at his beer as he people watched. The canteen was over-capacity, but no one enforced the regulation during storm season. This was one of the only spots in Junelle where people could go to unwind, and it was open twenty-four hours a day.

The crowd swelled toward him as a fight broke out near the door and he watched as the bouncers moved in to deal with it. The music volume dropped, as they began to work the combatants over. The crowd surged to catch the action. The crack of a fist hitting someone’s jaw and the collective cheer was all it took; he was back at Teslem, fighting for his life. He remembered the blow that drove him to the ground and the sensation of his ribs being broken. He caught himself before he fell off the stool and leaned heavily against the bar, trying to tune it all out before he suffered a panic attack.

Take a deep breath, calm yourself. You’re safe. There are no suppression guard stationed here, the Kind voice reminded him.

You’d think I’d be over it by now. It’s been two years. Nash sipped his beer and tried not to recall the details. He didn’t dream about it as often as he used to, but it still had power over him.

Trauma takes time to heal.

He smiled softly to himself, grateful that the other voices hadn’t chimed in this time. Thank you.

“I’d give a week’s pay to know what makes you smile like that. I know it isn’t Roz because you’ve been doing it for as long as I’ve known you.” Kalish sat down and claimed his beer.

“It’s a voice in my head.” Nash toasted Kalish with his bottle, then took another sip.

“Fine, don’t tell me then. Did you see the fight?”

“No. Who was it?”

“Al Warvyne and Stan Dros, again. They got themselves barred from the premises this time – Dros is trouble. I hear he’s been transferred five times in the last two years.”

“Dros? He’s the new Mech, right?”

“Yep. He’s got to be the world’s shortest Tyran. We call him Tiny—” Kalish stopped himself. “Sorry, Nash. I didn’t mean anything by that.”

“I know,” Nash’s gaze drifted to the door. With a name like Warvyne, the other guys got to be Birlo... “You’ve got pull in the Mech-Bay,” he turned to face Kalish.

“Some.”

Nash stared at his drink for a moment then answered, “Try to get Dros assigned to one of the all-Ebo crews. Keep him away from the Birlo Mechs, especially Warvyne.”

“I’ll have to bribe someone to take him – I wasn’t kidding when I said he has a bad rep.”

“So do I.” Nash reminded him.

“Sensing a kindred spirit in Tiny? Alright. I’ll do what I can, but you’ll owe me.”

“Tech support whenever you need it?”

“That wasn’t at the top of my wish-list, but it’s a fair deal. Done. To my soft-hearted friend, Nash, and his future bride. I wish you every happiness.” He raised his bottle and invoked an old Diasporan salute. “K’stanzi.”

“K’stanzi.”

“Speaking of Roz, shouldn’t she have contacted you by now?”

Nash checked his digipad. There was nothing new, so he scrolled through the older messages to see if he’d missed one by accident. Nothing. He frowned as he checked his watch.

Kalish signaled the bartender and indicated they had finished their drinks, then turned his attention back to Nash. “Call and set your mind at ease.”

Nash punched in her extension, and his expression softened when she answered. “Hi... I was getting worried. Is everything okay? Would you like me to come and get you now?”

Kalish slid a fresh bottle of beer in front of Nash and leaned against the bar as he studied his friend’s face.

Nash flashed him a quick smile, nodding his thanks. As Roz spoke, his expression darkened again. “Of course not. Are you okay?”

Kalish cocked an eyebrow and waited.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.” Nash disconnected, pulled out the earpiece and slid the digipad back in his pocket.

“Problem?”

“I’m not sure. She said she’d had a reaction to the test. Sorry to do this to you, but I’ve got to go - You free tomorrow night?” Nash downed the beer in two shots.

Kalish let out a soul-destroying sigh, then smirked. “Would I ever turn you down?”

Nash slid his ID through the scanner on the bar.

“Hey, this was supposed to be my treat.”

“Consider it my apology for changing the plan.”

“You’re a class act, my friend. Go, rescue your damsel.” Kalish made a shooing gesture.

“Thanks.” Nash grinned, turned, and snaked his way through the press of people.

*

Kalish watched him leave, then turned to the bartender and ordered himself another beer. “Roz,” he muttered under his breath.

“Your face matches the weather, Kalish.” The bartender signed back to him. He brought the bottle, opening it in front of the Mech. He leaned in closer and spoke in Sunarang, their Diaspora slang dialect. “Man troubles?”

“I feel like I’m watching a train-wreck in slow motion, Flynn, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.” Kalish took a long swig of beer, thumping the bottle back down on the bar with more force than he’d intended. “Sorry. Get me a rag, and I’ll clean up my mess.”

“Flynn motioned for another bartender to fill his position, then produced a cloth from under the counter. “So, are you here to vent, again, or do you want my advice this time?”

“Actually, I’m here on business, but I could do with a bit of a rant. If your advice is to talk to Roz, I plan to,” Kalish blotted up the spilled beverage and then reached into his pocket. He extracted his digipad, opened a file, then slid it across the counter.

Flynn’s eyebrows rose in surprise. “Planning a party, or have you expanded our list of clients tenfold?”

“Both.” Kalish used his thumb to discretely gesture at a corporal near him, “There are five-hundred just like him; fresh-faced and post drug test. No one’s going to be deployed in this weather - I’m merely offering a pleasant distraction during their internment at Junelle.”

Flynn chuckled, “You were always one to see opportunity, even when we were kids. I can’t get all of this together right away. What will get you started?”

“Fifty tabs of Bellum; I’ve got buyers lined up. A kilo of Tula— You wouldn’t happen to have access to any Zelat, would you?”

Flynn scowled, “Zelat? Liquid or crystal?”

Kalish nodded, “Liquid. This is a special request,”

“If we’re caught with it, they’ll ship us both to Tantrys.”

“Can you arrange it?”

A young lieutenant elbowed in between the corporal and Kalish and shouted over the music, “Klyste.”

Flynn put on his professional smile and signed back. “I’m on my break, but Cas will be happy to set you up.” Flynn signed the order to a red-headed man further down the bar.

Cas joined them, signing, “Single or a double, sir?”

The lieutenant was about to sign back when the music became down-tempo and softer. “Just in time. I haven’t used sign for a few years, and I’ve forgotten most of it. I’d like a double,” he replied in Korlo. The lieutenant studied the bottles arrayed on the shelves in front of him. He grinned as Cas filled a glass.

“You’ve got a good selection of booze,” the lieutenant turned to Kalish, “but that’s only part of what makes the world go around.” He finished his drink in one shot. “Any hints as to where I could find some skilled companionship?”

Kalish looked the young man up and down, assessing him. Dark hair, blue eyes, tan complexion... North Western Diasporan accent, freckles. Korlo half-breed. He responded in Korlo. “That depends on your definition of skilled. Tastes differ, and mine have never been conventional. I’m Kalish, by the way. You are?”

“Lieutenant Dylan Glass. Pleased to meet you. I didn’t know there were enough Korlo here to qualify for a consort district?” Dylan looked briefly at his empty glass.

“There aren’t, but we get by. Welcome to our version of Lorsa’s ‘Nox Plaza’.” Kalish gestured flamboyantly at their surrounds then indicated that Flynn should refill the lieutenant’s glass. “I’m certain you’ll find someone here who’s susceptible to your charms.” He winked. “Care to dance?”

Dylan paused, blinked and then recovered himself. “Uh— no. Thanks, though.” He finished the shot in one go.

Kalish patted him on the shoulder in a friendly way. “Forgive me, I’m a big flirt, and I’ve made you uncomfortable. Sorry. Let me buy you a drink to make it up to you.”

Flynn refilled the glass.

“Thanks.” Dylan sipped it.

“If you’re looking for company of the opposite sex, those lucky candidates sit along the North wall - see those mirrors over there? That’s their favored hunting ground.” Kalish pointed across the dance floor. “Dance and I guarantee you won’t leave this place alone.”

Dylan finished the rest of his drink quickly, then slid his ID through the scanner on the bar, punching in a short sequence of numbers. “Thanks for the advice. Have a pleasant evening, gentlemen.”

“Perhaps we’ll meet again,” Kalish said.

“Perhaps.” Dylan turned and faded into the sea of bodies.

“He’s paid for your next two drinks,” Flynn observed.

“Why are all the hot ones straight?” Kalish replied switching back into Sunarang.

“How quickly the heart forgets.” Flynn teased him.

Kalish gave him a pained look. “Back to business. How soon can I get my order?”

“I’ve got fifty tabs of Bellum in stores, as well as the Tula. I’ll use drop site five. The Zelat may be a problem. I’ll have to check and get back to you on it. Call it two-hundred for the tabs, five-hundred for the kilo, and, if I can get them, another two-hundred for four twenty-millilitre ampules.”

Kalish typed a code sequence onto his digipad and then transferred the funds. “Do you need a hand with deliveries?”

Flynn chuckled. “Sure, it’ll be just like old times. I’ll text you later with the details.”

*

Nash could hear the laughter through the door and knocked. “Doctor Kruvic?”

“Come in, Nash,” Blake answered.

Nash entered Vivienne’s office and closed the door behind him. “Good evening, Doctor Huri, Doctor—” he looked around and realized that Vivienne was missing.

“Doctor Kruvic was unavoidably detained,” Blake added a note to his digipad. “Rozwyn, Doctor Kruvic will want to follow up with you in a month. Her new assistant will contact you with the details.

“Congratulations on completing your internship, Doctor Huri. When are you shipping out to Nekkaro Station?” Nash asked.

“Zero-six hundred tomorrow. I’ve been assigned to Doctor Selwyn Maro’s staff, in the Special Projects Division there.”

“Thank you, Doctor Huri. Please, thank Doctor Maro too, for taking such an interest in my case. I’m feeling better now.” Roz stood and crossed the room to stand with Nash. “Shall we?”

“With your permission, sir?” Nash waited for Blake to give the okay.

“We’re done here. Have a good night, you two.”

Nash opened the door for Roz and paused to look back after she’d exited, “Thank you again, sir, for everything. If there’s anything I can ever do for you, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Have a good life, Nash.” Blake saluted him and went back to his notes.

Nash closed the door softly behind him.

They walked down the hallway, hand in hand, past the reception desk and into the waiting room. Floor to ceiling windows faced east, and they gave them an unrestricted view of the storm that boiled across the sky. Multi-coloured flashes arced from cloud to cloud culminating with a brilliant strike. Fires spotted across the plain, only to be put out by the torrential rain. Sounds were dampened, but they could still feel some of the vibration caused by the thunder.

Roz shivered as she watched, and Nash used the excuse to put his arm around her.

“This originated over Lake Evora. The multicolored jets and sprites that you see jumping from cloud to cloud are unique to storms from that region. I’ve heard theories that it’s due to some type of gas molecule that’s generated by the Seep.”

“I’ve never been this close to the Seep. Are we in any danger?” Roz stared out into the sky in wonder.

Nash hugged her closer, “No. We’re too far inland for the full force to hit us.” He reached forward and put his left hand against the window. “Plus, we’re protected by layers of granite, tellium, and laminated metallic glass. The glass is also protected by a constantly renewed, transparent polymer that bonds to the surfaces and prevents the water from accumulating,” Nash paused, trying to gauge her interest, then continued. “If you watch the hydroponics dome, you can see the polymer being reapplied. It happens regularly.” He pointed to a section near the crown of the dome. A panel appeared to glow, then it developed a mirror-like sheen, compared to those around it.

Roz pointed in the same direction. “The glass on the panel next to it is dull, why?”

“Good eye. That green tint means the acid has etched through the glass and broken the top seal. Don’t worry, there are multiple strata in the glass and green indicates that pane’s good for another few weeks, even without the polymer. Maintenance will swap it and the sprayer module out when the rain stops—”

You really know how to woo a girl, don’t you? If you check, her eyes have glazed over. The Sarcastic voice chimed in.

Shut up. “Oh, wow, look at that!” Nash pointed as a bright discharge illuminated the upper canopy of cloud showing hues ranging from amber through violet.

“It’s beautiful.” She watched the arcs play across the heavens.

That’s your cue to say something romantic. The Kind voice hinted.

“So are you.”

Roz looked up to find him watching her, instead of the spectacle outside. She wrapped her arms around him.

Nash leaned down, kissed her and then nuzzled around behind her left ear. “You smell good, too.” He gently bit her earlobe.

She giggled. “Food would taste better, I’m sure.”

“I beg to differ.” Nash nibbled his way down her neck, lost to her scent.

“Not here— someone will see.” Roz’s smile grew, even as she stepped away.

Nash released her, reluctantly. “Dinner?”

“Doctor Huri did say to eat.”

“Anything else?”

“Rest.” Roz’s eyes were lit with mischief.

“Please, allow me to be your escort to the finest cafeteria this side of Sandyn.” Nash offered her his arm.

“Such a gentleman. Do you have any helpful suggestions as to how I can relax, kind sir?” She bit her lower lip as she looked up at him.

Nash flushed, crimson. “Maybe.”

Roz took his arm and hugged it to her chest as she led him toward the elevator. “Only maybe? If you’re looking for hints, I really like that thing you do with your tongue.”

A brilliant flash lit the room behind them. The interior lights flickered at the same time they felt the vibration of the thunder through the walls.

“That seemed close.” Roz’s tone was calm, but her grip had tightened tenfold.

“I think it struck the tower. I’ve never been up here when that’s happened, but I’ve been told it occurs fairly frequently.” Nash flashed his ID at the camera and pressed the call button for the elevator.

“Shouldn’t we take the stairs?”

Nash glanced back toward the windows. “I’d rather be in the elevator, relying on the backup hard-link system, than facing sixty flights of stairs in crappy light.” He looked down at Roz with affection. “Besides, you’re supposed to rest.”

The doors slid open soundlessly, and Nash escorted Roz inside. He pressed the button for the seventh floor then maneuvered her into the corner nearest them. “So, you like what I do with my tongue, do you?” He bent and kissed her passionately. A ripple of delight ran through him, as she returned it. “I like what you do with yours, too.” His fingers moved toward the emergency stop button. They both jumped at the unexpected voice announcing they were stopping at level fifty-seven.

The elevator doors slid open. Three Korlo interns entered; their conversation stopped when they noticed the pair.

“Good evening. It’s Tech Korpes, isn’t it?”

“Good evening, gentlemen.” Nash faced the group to give Roz a chance to compose herself behind him. He could feel the heat of her blush on his back and knew he wore one to match.

The man closest to Nash pressed the button for the tenth floor. “Have you heard the news?”

“News?” Nash looked at him blankly for an instant before he remembered. “Oh. Sandyn’s dome issues?”

“No. The M’Kang just struck again. This time they attacked a supply station near Ethos. They’re getting bolder.”

Nash frowned “Where did you hear it was the M’Kang?”

“Who else could it be?” All three men stared at Nash as though he’d sprouted a second head.

“How about Clan Evora? Military deserters? Ankoresh?”

“The cease-fire’s been in place for close to two decades. In all that time, there have only been three incidents along the buffer zone, and two were friendly fire. It’s not Ankoresh.”

“I still think it’s a leap to blame M’Kang for this. They’re not that organized—”

“Open your damn eyes, Korpes. They’ve hit five military sites in the last two months. The M’Kang are arming themselves.”

“M’Kang don’t hit military sites. They prey on the Diaspora, or they pilfer small outposts and steal a few supplies. They might shoot back if you shoot first, but minimal property damage is ever done. It’s irritating, but it’s not terror.’

“They live for conflict.” The man at the back retorted.

Nash felt Roz grip the back of his shirt and realized that she hadn’t joined the debate. Her silence spoke volumes.

Careful. The Kind voice advised.

Way to stick your foot in it. I think the one in the back is going to have a stroke! I’ve never seen eyes bug out like that. The Sarcastic voice laughed.

“Are you an M’Kang sympathizer, Korpes?”

“No,” he studied them while he contemplated his next words. “I’m not. I apologize for any offense I may have given, and I believe this is your destination.” He pointed up as the floor was announced. “I wish you each a pleasant evening.”

The three interns stepped out of the elevator, but the one who’d been at the back turned to face Nash. “A pretty apology; one I suspect you don’t mean. Watch yourself.”

Nash kept his expression polite and neutral as the doors slid shut, then exhaled sharply. “Not the way I’d hoped to use my tongue during this ride - Sorry.” He glanced over his shoulder at Roz, trying to gauge her mood.

She hugged him. “I thought you used it rather well, but if you like, you can make it up to me after dinner.”

*

Roz stretched, rolled onto her right side, opened her eyes, and breathed a sigh of relief when she realized the cramps had disappeared. The spot next to her on the narrow cot was still warm. “What time is it?”

“Just after nineteen-hundred.” Nash looked up from his console and watched as she slid out from under the covers.

“You let me sleep the day away.” Roz flushed under his gaze and reached for her clothes. What?”

“You’re beautiful.”

Roz grinned shyly as she pulled her t-shirt over her head.

“Feeling better?”

She stood and slipped on her underwear. “Yes, much better thank you— oh.” The polished concrete was icy against her bare feet, and Roz skittered back on the bed, retrieving her socks from the floor.

“What?”

“The floor’s freezing.” As she rubbed her feet vigorously, she noted his clothes were still piled where he’d left them. “Aren’t you cold?”

“It’s not that bad.”

“Yes, it is. How come my room has heated floors, and yours doesn’t?”

“When Junelle expanded, none of the underground sections were updated. All the upgrades went into hydroponics, the recyclers, and the tower. Guest rooms are in the new area.” Nash’s attention was drawn back to the screen.

Roz fished her jeans up next and stretched out to pull them on. “What are you doing?”

“Catching up on the news. The militants struck again; this time it was a military train heading to Farlen Station.”

“Farlen? That’s close to the Seep, isn’t it?” She crossed the room, stopping behind Nash so she could read the feed as well. “Was anyone hurt?” Her brows furrowed as she studied the other content on the page.

Nash looked back over his shoulder at her. “No casualties this time, which is a miracle. According to this, they blew up the maglev track to derail the train. Reports state the parties responsible made off with medical supplies.” He turned the console off and swiveled his chair around so he could face her. “Hungry?”

“Why did you shut it off?” She raised an eyebrow, as they made eye contact again, “What site was that? I didn’t catch the name.”

“Uh... It’s just a tech site I belong to. It’s not official, but the news stream’s reliable—”

She’s caught you, the Sarcastic voice whispered. You’ve exposed the BBS. Won’t Evan be thrilled.

Shut up. Nash mirrored Roz’s expression back to her. “What kind of site do you think I was looking at? Porn?” It came out sounding sharper than he’d intended.

An uncomfortable silence settled between them.

Nash spoke first using a softer tone. “I’m sorry. It was just a tech site, and I shut it off because you’re awake. I’d rather pay attention to you,” he took her hands and held them. “Besides, if a porn site has to add a news feed to spice things up, they’re a lost cause.” He grinned, hoping to hear her laugh.

“Yeah.” Roz’s smile was half-hearted. “I should go and change; I’ve been wearing this since yesterday.”

“Are you alright? We can cancel if you’re not up to this.”

“I’m okay,” her eyes were unreadable as she looked down at him. “I’m looking forward to tonight. Will you dance with me?”

Nash raised her hands to his lips and kissed them. “Yes. I’ll try not to step on your feet this time.”

“I— I’ll message you when I’m ready.” Roz turned and quickly left the room.

“What— Roz, wait,” Nash stood to follow her.

The Darkness spoke. She knows you lied to her. Now she wonders what else you’ve lied about – She will leave you.

Nash halted mid-stride and paled as the words took root, resonating with his secret fear. Leave? Shut up. She’s just—

The Sarcastic voice joined in. Just what?... I’m surprised she lasted this long. You didn’t honestly think you’d be able to keep her interested—

You could see it in her eyes, the Darkness spoke again.

Enough! Nash shut the voices out and stumbled out of his room into the hall beyond.

She said she’d let you know when she was ready... Trust her. The Kind voice whispered.

But— Nash peered down the corridor in the direction Roz had fled. Gone.

Trust me. Trust Roz.

I trust you... both.

A wolf whistle drew his attention, and Nash turned to face the source. Three uniformed men approached, but he only recognized one of them.

“Captain Varga. Sirs.” Nash saluted the Korlo officers.

The captain saluted back then looked Nash up and down. “Best you cover up before you blind someone.”

The other two chuckled, as Nash flushed and looked down at himself. Aw, fuck.

Cheer up. At least you didn’t chase Roz through the station like this, the Sarcastic voice laughed.

“Thank you, sir, that’s good advice. Excuse me, while I follow it— Sirs.” Nash saluted again, and stepped back into his room, shutting the door behind him. I hope they don’t register an official complaint.

The Sarcastic voice rippled up from his subconscious. Don’t worry - Who’s going to believe a captain, a sergeant, and a colonel... It’s not as if there’s security feed they can use to validate their claim.

Shut up. Nash tuned the voice out and headed for his bathroom to get ready. He paused at his desk and stared at Roz’s photograph. I trust you. Nash picked it up, kissed it, and set it down with care.

*

Nash heard the buzzer over the sound of his shower. “Hold on,” he yelled. Soap ran into his left eye, and he quickly splashed it out. Damn, I’ve got two minutes’ left on the timer.

The buzzer rang again, followed by someone’s fist on the door.

“Keep your pants on.” Nash bellowed as he shut the water off. He grabbed his glasses, then a towel and dried his hair roughly as he strode to the door. He looked through the peep-hole, but the view was blocked by the badge someone was holding in front of it. Military police? The metal door was cold against his damp skin, so he used the towel as a buffer. I haven’t done anything. Please don’t let this screw up my leave. Nash pressed the intercom button. “Uh, hello Officer, or Officers. How may I assist you today?” He didn’t open the door.

“Are you Tech Nash X. Korpes?”

Shit. “Yes-sir. Is this about by my breach of the dress code earlier?”

“This is a private matter. I’d prefer not to have this conversation in the hallway. Will you open the door?”

Not without a warrant. “I— I can meet you in an interview room of your choice in ten minutes,” with a KMR and D rep in tow. Nash tried to read the name on the badge through the tiny aperture.

There was a pause in the conversation. The badge was replaced by a blue eye as someone peered back at him.

“C’mon, Nash, let me in. Please? People are starting to stare.”

It can’t be. Nash pressed the button to open the door. “Dylan!” relief flushed away the anxiety. “You bastard, are you trying to give me a heart attack?”

Dylan grinned back at him. “Sorry, I thought you’d recognize my voice sooner.” He leaned against the metal door frame and tucked his badge back in his pocket. “When I saw you were listed as staff here, I almost didn’t believe it. I— after what happened at Teslem, they wouldn’t tell us anything. I never thought I’d—” he looked down. “Find you.” He reached out and slid the towel off Nash’s shoulder and handed it back to him. “Here, finish drying off. I don’t want to be the reason you died from exposure. Can I come in?”

“Oops.” Nash covered up and gestured for him to enter.

“So, didn’t it ever occur to you to drop us a line and let us know that you were okay? All we got was gossip. Poor Davis still has nightmares about that day.” Dylan claimed a chair, as Nash returned to the bathroom.

“He does? Damn. I’m sorry to hear that. To set the record straight, I sent about a dozen messages from Ethos, but never got responses... I assumed that you guys just wanted to forget about the whole business— Ow.”

“What?”

“The ceiling in here is a bit low. I hit my head on the light at least twice a week. Getting back to the messages, I’ve suspected they were screening my mail, but I didn’t think they were blocking it.”

“Tampering with mail is illegal, Nash,” Dylan replied sarcastically. He looked around the small room taking note of the details of the sparsely decorated space.

Nash made a rude noise. “I’ve been writing my family weekly, for eight years, but I only hear back from my sister every few months.”

“You’re certain that’s odd? This is the same woman who saddled you with those glasses.” Dylan smirked.

“Contrary to your opinion, my sister adores me.” Nash emerged from the bathroom.

Dylan watched him as he sat at the console. “I heard rumors—”

“About my sister?” Nash spun the chair around to face his friend.

“Smart ass. About how long you were in regen, and the aversion therapy—”

“I heard you were in a coma. Is that right?”

“Yeah. My skull was fractured in four spots. They thought I was going to die, so they put me in suspension to work on me.”

“And Davis? You mentioned nightmares?”

“No external injuries, but he spent over a year in therapy. He seems fine now, but I think he blames himself.” Dylan noted Nash’s hands gripped the armrest of his chair, tightening until his knuckles went white.

“I’m so sorry.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Neither Davis nor I blame you. Just in case you don’t know, Doctor Santaro pursued things on our behalf. The members of the squad involved were charged.”

“That was kind of her.”

Dylan chuckled, and the corner of his mouth curled up to form a lopsided grin. “They got a slap on the wrist, and were transferred, but something good came from the attention the trial generated.”

Nash opened the drawer to this desk and extracted two glasses. “Do tell, I’m always in the mood for good news.”

“My maternal grandfather decided to take an active interest in my well-being after the details were revealed.”

“Congratulations. I love it when good things happen to good people.” Nash produced a bottle and poured the drinks. “Sanvalh?”

“Sure, thanks.” Dylan accepted the tumbler. “K’stanzi. Anyway, he had me moved to a corporate clinic in Lorsa to recover, and he pursued the matter of the suppression guards as well. I checked, and it turns out that they were all formally discharged. No private sector company will touch them, so even merc work is out.”

Nash nodded thoughtfully.

“I’ve also been cleared to pursue officer ranks.” Dylan indicated his lapel. “The board reviewed my record, and I was up-jumped based off the commendations I’d racked up. Not bad for a by-blow. Maybe now I’ll be given permission to marry and have kids.”

“That’s fantastic, Dylan.” Nash stared into his glass for a moment, then looked up. “I don’t mean to pry, but do you happen to know your Korlo family name?”

“No, I only know my mother was from Lorsa. My dad signed a non-disclosure agreement. Davis said his dad had to sign one too. All contact has been handled by lawyers. The records exist somewhere, but I have no clue where to look.”

“Do you want to know?” Nash raised an eyebrow and gestured at his console. “I could check around for you.”

“No. I’ll leave it up to them to tell me.”

Nash stretched his long legs out in front of him and sipped the Sanvalh. “So, how long are you in Junelle?”

“A couple of weeks, maybe longer - depends.”

“Are you here for the sights?”

Dylan snorted mid-sip, spitting his drink out. “Sights? Are you referring to the one nightclub or the big garden?” He looked for something to mop up his mess with.

“Here.” Nash tossed him a thin cloth.

Dylan stood to blot himself off. “The only reason I’d spend my leave here would be to visit you; I’m here for work—” He looked up and pointed at Roz’s photo. “Hey, who’s the cute red-head? Your sister?”

“My fiancée, Roz.”

“Well, it looks like you’ve had some well-deserved luck too. K’stanzi.” Dylan saluted him with what remained of his drink, then reclaimed his seat.

Nash’s digipad beeped, and he checked the message. “Want to meet her? We had plans to celebrate my leave coming through, and she’s just messaged me to pick her up for dinner. If you’re off duty, we can eat together, then all head to the club. My buddy Kalish will meet us there.”

“Things have changed.” Dylan stood when Nash did and pulled him into a fierce hug. “When I first saw you, I wasn’t sure, but now? A fiancée, friends? I’m happy for you, Nash. You deserve it.” He released his grip and stepped back. “It would be my pleasure to join you.”

*

Kalish returned - balancing the tray like a pro. He deposited three bottles on the table before he placed a tall glass in front of Roz. “For the lady, something more refined.”

“K’stanzi.” Roz accepted the drink.

Nash grinned as he grabbed a beer and saluted with it. “K’stanzi.” He took a long sip, paused, swallowed, then examined the bottle. “I’ve never seen this label before, is it new?” Nash sipped again, pausing to interpret what he could taste. “This is almost... sweet. It’s making my lips tingle, it’s so potent. Good choice.”

“Uh... You’re drinking mine. Here.” Kalish offered an untouched bottle in exchange.

“Sorry, I didn’t know they were different.” Nash held the beverage close to his chest. “Can’t I keep it? I’ll replace it with a full one, next round.”

Kalish shook his head and started to reach for the bottle.

“Please? It’s good.” Nash wrapped his other hand around his prize and affected an expression that used to get him extra cookies when he was four.

“Gah! You win, but I cite unfair tactics. I suggest you go easy - you’re not used to it, and it will definitely have an effect. Hey,” he indicated the empty seat as he reclaimed his own chair. “Where’d your old buddy go?”

Nash turned, squinting into the shadows, then pointed Dylan out in the crowd. “Looks like he got waylaid on his way back from the head. He’s dancing with Magda.”

Kalish stifled a grin. “I hope he knows self-defence, she’s quite an animal when she gets going.”

“But she’s so tiny.” Roz turned in her seat to stare at the couple.

Kalish leaned across the table in a conspiratorial manner. “She’s a Mech. She’s all muscle and enthusiasm... or so the stories go. I can’t speak from any first-hand experience—” he felt his digipad vibrate and checked it. “S’cuse me, I’ve got to take this.” He sat back in his chair to read it then composed a response.

Nash closed his eyes to listen to the music, and his inner world spun with the rhythms. Wild. He opened them again and took a sip of his drink. His entire left side began to tingle pleasantly. He smiled as he identified what had triggered the sensation. Proximity. “Hello, you.”

“You look so relaxed.” Roz cuddled in closer.

“I am.” He kissed her on top of her head, then started working his way down toward her ear.

“Would you like me to find you two a room?”

Nash looked up in time to catch his friend’s pained expression.

“You okay?” Nash signed from across the table.

“Yeah.” Kalish signed in return. “How’re you holding up?”

“I’m relaxed... You’re done already? I can go get your replacement now if you like?”

“Hey guys, I don’t know sign, remember?” Roz wiggled her fingers at them.

“Sorry.” They answered in unison.

“It looks like Dylan’s escaped.” She pointed at the fourth member of their group as he approached.

“Sorry about the delay, I got distracted.” He cast a wistful glance out into the crowd before he turned to Kalish. “How much do I owe you?” He reached the unclaimed bottle.

Kalish held up his hand, waving off the suggestion. “My treat.”

“Thanks. How about I get the next round then?”

Nash’s hand shot up. “Too late, I’m getting the next round to make up for the fact I stole Kalish’s beer,” he grinned and took a long sip. “I have no regrets.”

Dylan’s eyebrows rose, as he studied Nash’s demeanor. “What’s it called?” he tried to read the label from where he sat.

Nash squinted as he read the name, “I think it’s pronounced Pole-kutt?”

“Polk’t” Kalish corrected.

“I recommend it.” Nash took another sip. “It must be a home brew. The alcohol content isn’t listed but trust me, it’s potent and delicious.”

“It’s based off an old Ebo recipe, and it’s a bit hard to come by—” Kalish’s expression grew pensive as he watched Nash drain the rest of the bottle. “What happened to ‘go easy’? I warned you that it’s strong.”

“I forgot?” Nash chuckled. “I’ll go slower with the next one, promise.”

Kalish checked the time again. “Roz, would you care to dance?” He stood and offered her his arm.

Roz’s expression of surprise gave way to delight. “Of course.”

“I’ll have the refills here by the time you get back.”

Kalish flashed Nash a strained grin and escorted Roz into the press of people moving toward the dance floor.

Nash waved as they disappeared down the staircase.

“Can I see that for a moment?” Dylan indicated the bottle.

“Sure.”

Dylan idly inspected it, allowing his little finger to slide inside the rim. “You’ve only had one of these? Don’t tell me you’ve become a lightweight.”

Nash laughed. “This stuff’s probably not something Sunaro exports under a general license.”

“Sunaro?”

“Sorry, you might know it by its designation, Diaspora Five. Kalish and his brother, Flynn, are from there— It’s tiny and right on the border between the Seep and Ankoresh. Gotta hand it to Flynn, he manages to get in all sorts of exotic stuff— He even got a bottle of Klyste.”

“I noticed.” Dylan set the bottle on the table. “If this magic brew’s managed to give you a buzz, I want to try it.”

“Allow me to grant your wish.” Nash stood and surveyed the dance floor for a second. “To be fair, I feel bad about drinking it now. It’s obvious he wanted it because it was a taste of home. I should have given it back.” He collected the empties. “I hope they have three more—” he looked at the empty glass. “I’m not sure if Roz would want one; beer isn’t her thing.”

“Stick with something safe then. She can always try yours,” Dylan grinned and offered Nash the bottle back.

“Catch up before I get back.” Nash indicated the untouched beer, then turned and joined the stream of patrons moving toward the bar.

Dylan made sure Nash was out of sight before he pulled a small black case from his pocket. He extracted two sheer ribbons, five centimeters in length, from a folder inside. The case disappeared back in his pocket. He paused, then dipped the first one in his drink and blotted the second one against the residue on his little finger. He breathed a sigh of relief when neither strip changed color. Dylan crumpled the two pieces together and watched as they evaporated in his hand.

He stood and scanned the line-up behind him. He motioned to a young woman with hot-pink hair. “Excuse me, Miss,” Dylan leaned in close, so she could hear him. “Let me save you a trip to the bar.” He offered his bottle to her in exchange for her empty one.

She studied it, then him. “Not to be rude, but how do I know it doesn’t have something extra in it?”

“You have my word?”

Her smile became flirtatious. “You’re cute, but that’s not good enough.”

Dylan flashed a charming smile and his badge. “I can’t be held responsible for anything else you drink tonight, but if you suffer ill effects from this beer, you can report me. I’m Lieutenant Dylan Glass, Military Police.”

She squinted in the low light as she reread his ID. “Thank you, Dylan. I’m Cindy.” She winked, then re-joined her friends.

He sat down, positioning the empty bottle in the center of the table and waited for Nash to return.

*

Dylan looked up as the shadow of a tray passed over him. “That was fast.”

“Sometimes it pays to be tall.” Nash set the drinks down on the table. “I placed my order, by sign, while I was still in line and it was ready by the time I got to the counter.”

“Looks like they had more of the Polk— whatever in stores.”

“I’m just glad they had enough for me to keep my word. K’stanzi.”

“K’stanzi.” The clinked bottles and each took a sip.

“I told you that if we left them alone for a few minutes, they’d start a new round.” Kalish gracefully swept Roz past Dylan, then took his own seat. He plucked the remaining bottle from the table. “I see Flynn found the reserves for you.” He checked the time again and gave Roz a discreet nod.

She shuffled in her seat for a moment before she claimed her glass. Her eyes glittering with excitement. “Thanks for the dance, Kalish.”

“My pleasure.” His gaze followed the bottle as Nash half-drained it in one shot.

The music shifted again. The electronic tone and the banks of lights above the dance floor synchronized to the new beat.

Dylan relaxed back into his chair, content to take in the atmosphere and caught the wink Kalish gave Roz. “Not on my watch,” it was out of his mouth before he could stop himself.

Nash didn’t react. He had his eyes shut and was tuned into the music.

Roz heard him and stared, trying to put the phrase in context.

“What?” Kalish cupped his hand to his ear.

He leaned over so Kalish could hear him. “Care to dance?”

“Really? You’re joking. I didn’t think you were interested.” Kalish stood and gestured toward the dance floor.

Dylan stood, smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. He ducked in close as he passed by and pitched his voice so only Kalish would hear. “I’m not. Let’s go, stud.”

Nash opened his eyes in time to watch them go. “Well, that’s a surprise.”

“Aren’t you going to ask me to dance?” Roz’s cheeks were still pink from her earlier exertion. She took a long sip of her drink and then winked at him.

Beautiful. “Uh,” Nash fought to regain cohesive thought. Wow, two Polk’t and I’m wasted. Nash slid out from the bench seat, drawing Roz behind him. “Let’s go.”

“I love this song.” Roz took the lead and pulled him after her.

“I’m not sure I know how to dance to this.” He could feel the heat from the lights, beating down on him.

“Just relax and don’t worry. Do what comes naturally.”

Nash felt the vibration of the backbeat in his chest, like the pulse of a second heart. He was one with the movement around him by the time they took to the floor and lost himself in the experience. The tempo of the music shifted; the baseline became primitive, and the crowd of dancers on the floor grew in response. The ambient light levels dropped. Feral energy possessed them as the strobes picked up the beat.

For Nash, there was no thought; instinct reigned supreme. His gaze remained fixed on Roz as she danced, and he memorized every motion as they were highlighted in flashes of light. It was hypnotic.

Her lips moved.

“What?” Nash leaned down, and the crowd surged, pushing him into her.

She seized the moment and stole a long kiss.

The world around him dissolved, as he returned it. Nash held her close, reveling in the contact. It took a moment for him to find his voice. “I didn’t catch what you said.”

“I’m not wearing any underwear,” Roz kissed him again, her tongue darting playfully over his.

The room spun, and Nash staggered to keep his balance. He took her hand and led her off the dance floor. Where to go? Somewhere nearby... storeroom. His eyes were drawn to the lights of the bar.

“Where are we going?” Roz asked. “The exit is that way.”

“Somewhere private.” His pace increased as he conducted them to the edge of the dance floor. Nash paused as his free hand searched his breast pocket for his ID. The keys to the kingdom. He resumed the march toward the bar. Damn, Flynn’s gone, and none of the regulars are on.

“What can I get you?” A female bartender signed at them.

Nash leaned across the bar, so the woman could hear him. “I’m with tech support. I need to check the hard-link junction box in the storeroom.” He flashed his ID and a manic grin.

The bartender assessed both then dismissed him in favor of Roz. “And who are you, his assistant?”

Roz shook her head. “I’m the supervisor,” she shouted back.

The bartender laughed and pressed a button under the counter. “Go ahead.”

Nash led her into the central storeroom, then indicated a door with a green light. “There.” He motioned for Roz to enter and followed her in, swiping his ID against the panel. The metal door slid shut, and the light went red. “Now, where were we?” He closed the distance between them and danced Roz once around the small room before he swung her up into an embrace. “You were saying?” He set her on the crate closest to the wall. They could both feel the dull thrum of the music beyond.

She laughed. “I’ve said a lot of things, which one are you referring to?”

“Tease. Good to see you’re feeling better.”

“It’s amazing what a hot shower in a warm room will do for a girl. It looks like you’re feeling something too,” she glanced down and smiled.

Nash pressed in closer as he kissed his way down the right side of her neck. “Gods you smell good tonight... You mentioned something about ‘no underwear’?”

“I may have,” Roz traced her fingers through his hair. “I love that you’re letting this grow.”

Nash leaned into her touch and ran his hands up under her skirt. Nothing. He forced himself to breathe so he could speak. “You’re driving me insane.”

She ran her right hand up his chest. “What are we going to do about that?”

Without a word, Nash reached into his hip pocket, pulled out his wallet. His hands shook as he opened the first flap. Nope. He looked in the side pocket. I hope the damn thing’s still good— Shit. Where is it? His search became frantic, and then he remembered when he last saw it. Teslem. I gave it to Dylan. “No!”

“What’s wrong?”

“I don’t have a condom.”

“So?”

So? His body screamed in frustration. “Those tests— You had to stop taking contraceptives.” He shifted his stance as he tried to find a more comfortable position.

“Yes. And?” Roz looked at him askew. Her hand moved over his heart.

“Article Seven: ‘At least one of us must use protection until the end of the grace period’,” Nash placed his hand over hers and held it, resigned to the fact that he wasn’t going to get to share this rare moment. “You still have four months left to make up your mind about me, about everything. As much as I want you right now, taking a chance like this is... dumb. If you get pregnant,” he felt helpless as he tried to put his feelings into words. “I don’t want you to ever feel like you were trapped by a mistake.”

A slight frown appeared as she tried to gauge his thoughts. “You just said ‘make up your mind’, not ‘our minds’. Have you already come to a decision?”

“Yes.” Nash felt his stomach begin to knot with fear.

Trust. The Kind voice whispered.

Roz reflected on what Kalish had said earlier on the dance floor when he warned her about the effects of the Polk’t. “Do you love me?”

“With every particle of my being.”

Her expression was radiant. “I love you, too.” Roz caressed his cheek with her free hand. “Let’s skip the rest of the waiting period. We can complete the formal arrangements when we get to Astel.”

Nash memorized every detail of that moment, then hugged her close. Yes.

“So... Now that we have consensus,” Roz tugged playfully at his belt, “why are you still wearing pants?”

***

5. Junelle Station

Dylan escorted Kalish through the mob of dancers and dragged him into a dark corner at the far end of the club.

“Before you go any further, I think you should know that I’m not that kind of boy. Hands off, ass-hole,” Kalish pulled out of Dylan’s grasp and turned on him. “What the hell is your problem?”

“You are,” Dylan pushed him back against the wall. “Whatever you and Roz have going on between you has got to stop.”

Kalish stared, dumbfounded, and then started to laugh. “You think that Roz and I— Gods, you had me worried for a minute.”

“Deny it all you like. I’m telling you to back off.”

“Nash said you were military police,” Kalish scoffed. “They either hired you to fill a by-blow quota or because you’re pretty - it sure wasn’t for your brain.”

Dylan ignored the jab. “Nash thinks you’re his friend. If you are then, don’t fuck him over like this.”

Kalish stepped away from the wall and assessed Dylan with a serious expression. “You’ve got me all wrong, handsome; Roz isn’t my type. I just offered her some friendly advice—” he paused as his digipad beeped. “I’d love to continue this, but I have to go.”

“Hold on... Friendly advice?”

“If you want to know more, ask Roz.” Kalish walked off as the digipad in Dylan’s pocket beeped.

*

Kalish coughed as he exited the air duct, partly to announce his arrival, but the dust had played a role as well. “That shaft hasn’t been cleaned in close to a year.”

“I was beginning to think you weren’t gonna show.” Flynn tossed him a small, canvas satchel. “Drop site seven and then meet me in the gardens. Baen and his crew are due in at zero-three hundred. I want everyone in place before then.”

Kalish frowned as he slung the heavy bag over his shoulder. “Baen? Aw shit. I thought he was in Tantrys? When did he get out?”

“Not sure. Can’t say I’m thrilled about dealing with him again.” Flynn divided the contents of a second satchel into two piles as he double-checked the count.

“Wasn’t there anyone else? What about Gordon? He’s got a Zelat pipeline into Merrow.”

“Not anymore. He got picked up in a sweep last month, along with Anton and Tasmin—”

“What? Tasmin was just a runner; they didn’t send her to Tantrys too, did they?” Kalish waited for an answer as his brother checked the packets’ weights.

“No idea,” Flynn repacked the bag quickly and then zipped it shut. “I—” The digipad in his pocket beeped. His expression darkened as he read the text. “Fuck. Baen’s here already.” Flynn typed in a quick message and sent it. “Catch.” He tossed Kalish the second bag. “Drop site four, I’m not going to have time—” His digipad beeped again, and he checked the text. “Cas and Xeon are going to meet me in the gardens.”

“I’ll be quick. See you there.” Kalish sprinted off.

*

The massive hydroponics dome was dark and humid. Evidence of the recent rain-cycle was still visible on the large concrete slabs that formed the main causeway, and the residual water ran noisily into the drains.

A pool of water formed in the dense soil around Dylan’s foot as he crouched in the shadows. He started when he noticed it then remembered that he wasn’t outside. Safe. It’s not eating through the boot. He touched it just to be sure before he turned his attention back to the job.

Damn, I can’t hear a word of this. He glared at the main fans. The same white noise that had screened the sounds of his approach now distorted the conversation he was trying to overhear.

Dylan edged up closer to the group, using the heavily laden pallet-jack as cover. Confirm the drop, and call it in.

“Take it or leave it.” A baritone voice intoned.

“This is three times the going rate.”

Dylan recognized Flynn and the group of bartenders he’d seen working earlier that night. They’re all here, except— Part of him was relieved that Kalish wasn’t present.

“Call it a carrying tax or an expression of your gratitude that I made the trip.” An unpleasant looking man with blond hair came into view.

Baen? He wasn’t mentioned in the Intel. Aw, hell. Dylan sized up the dealer’s crew. Four, two with... old-style long arms? The realization hit him. Oh shit! Range and their muzzle flashes won’t be enough to set off the gasses in here. He looked down at his modern weapon and imagined ten more like it firing at the same time. You, however— He slid his gun back into its holster.

Damn. Fall back and signal to scrub. Dylan’s heart stopped beating when the pallet-jack started up. He hadn’t seen the driver. Shit. He slipped back to his original spot, praying that no one noticed, then took a moment to compose himself. Adrenaline pulsed through his body, heightening his senses. He caught movement out of the corner of his eye and watched as Kalish approached the group. Nash is going to hate me for this. Dylan reached into his pocket and pulled out his digipad.

*

“Company.” The driver of the pallet-jack signed then indicated Dylan’s hiding spot.

The thug closest to Baen leveled his gun and fired into the gloom. “I hit somethin’ squishy—”

“Idiot. A body is not a complication we need right now.”

Dylan leaned back against the wall, applying pressure to the wound in his right shoulder. He hadn’t cried out, but he knew his cover was blown. He measured the distance between himself and the vertical section of the gardens. Not enough time to get there. Not enough cover to hide here; thank the Gods I’m not in uniform. “I’m unarmed,” he pushed his side-arm, ID, and digipad under the closest bush then stood. I need a miracle.

Kalish peered into the shadows, frowning. “Hold on, I know this guy.” He gestured for Baen’s men to stay put and then strode out to where Dylan stood. “It’s all good. I’ve got this,” he shouted over his shoulder, then he turned his back on them. “Shit.”

“Hi? And here I was hoping you weren’t going to show.” Dylan smiled weakly.

“This is a bust in more ways than one. Are you hit anywhere vital?” Kalish pitched his voice low enough not to carry.

“No.”

“Do you know who that blond guy is?”

Dylan nodded. “And what he’s capable of.”

“Does he know you to see you?” Kalish moved closer.

“Yes, unfortunately.”

Kalish furtively glanced at the garden behind Dylan. “Where the hell is your backup?”

“I was just doing a little advance scouting. The Intel’s off.” He gestured, indicating his lack of body armor. “I’m the only one here.” Dylan gripped his wound tighter, using the pain to focus.

“Don’t be rude, Kalish. Come, introduce your friend to us.” Baen called out.

“We’ll be right with you, sir; just coming to an understanding.”

Dylan was unprepared for the blow. Kalish’s fist connected with sledgehammer force, pushing him up against the retaining wall. Three more blows fell, the final one breaking his nose. Dylan could feel the blood running down his face and his eyes beginning to swell shut. He staggered sideways and fell over.

Kalish grabbed the front of Dylan’s shirt and pulled him to his feet, then shook him for effect. His hand slid inside Dylan’s jacket. “Where’s your ID?”

Dylan indicated the shrub with his thumb.

“Good. You’re now a jilted lover. Play along.”

“Okay.” Dylan coughed and spat out blood.

Kalish dragged him the distance to the path, then pulled him in close. “I’m going to hit you again. Drop and stay down.”

Baen stood beside the pallet-jack as the pair joined the group. He smiled as Kalish dealt the interloper another blow.

“Who is he?”

“An ex. Dumb fuck won’t take no for an answer.”

“What did dumb fuck’s mother name him?” Baen motioned for one of his men to search Dylan.

“William Archel. He’s a by-blow. Assigned to one of the bio-labs… I think.”

Baen studied Kalish coldly. “You… think?”

Kalish grinned, “I wasn’t interested in him for his mind.”

Everyone except Baen and the man searching Dylan’s pockets laughed.

“He doesn’t have any ID. He’s seen us; shall I?” The thug extracted his side-arm and pressed it to Dylan’s head.

“Put it back in your pants, Parks, it’s bad enough that Galt tagged him. Kalish, as this problem came to us through you, I want you to deal with it.” Baen stooped and opened his briefcase. He put on a pair of thin latex gloves, extracted a small vial and a hypo-kit. “Med-grade liquid Zelat. One milliliter is enough to keep someone high for a day. Here’s ten. Send him to the Gods, first class.” He filled the hypodermic with a small amount of liquid and handed it over to Kalish.

Baen looked down at the body. “Oops, I almost forgot.” He knelt at Dylan’s side, producing a long blade from his boot. Placing his fingers to either side of the bullet wound, he drew the skin tight. “Can’t leave anything that can be traced. Leave him somewhere dark. Bleeding like this it won’t take long for the Korva to find him.”

It took every bit of willpower Dylan possessed not to scream as Baen dug the slug out of his shoulder.

“Galt, get a hose and clean this up,” Baen indicated the pool of blood that had formed during the extraction. He stood and turned to Flynn. “This,” he held up the bloody trophy, “and the Zelat are going to be added to your bill.” Baen snorted as Kalish knelt next to Dylan. “Fix him up here.”

Kalish stuck the needle through the shirt sleeve and depressed the plunger. “Enjoy the ride.”

Flynn caught his brother’s eye and signed “Go.”

“Let’s go, stud,” Kalish muttered as he slung Dylan’s limp body over his shoulder. He strode off without looking back.

*

Dylan felt a great nothing, punctuated by a rhythmic pulse in his right shoulder. His arms and legs swung free in space. Something hard connected with his head, but it didn’t hurt.

“Fuck. Sorry about that.” Kalish replied.

Dylan felt the heat from above. He heard someone off to his right, humming, and assumed it was Kalish. The pungent odor of an antiseptic reached his nose and made him cough, forcing him to open his eyes. “What—” Three bright lights stared down at him.

“Keep still. I’m almost done dressing this.” Kalish leaned over him and grinned. “Congratulations, you lived.”

“Where are we?”

“The Med-Bay on level seven.”

Dylan tried to recall as much of the event as he could. “I don’t remember much after Baen went to work on me. Did he—”

“Wreck your shoulder? Yep, but he stopped there. My Med-Tech skills are weak, but I’ve stopped the bleeding. I’ll arrange for some real help as soon as he’s gone.” Kalish stood and moved the tray with the blood-soaked wadding over to the sink. “Don’t try to stand up.”

“Why?” Dylan attempted to sit and swing his legs over the edge of the platform but rolled off instead. He landed with a crunch and his efforts to tilt his head proved futile. He was forced to taste the floor-tiles as he spoke. “What the hell?”

Kalish chuckled, shaking his head. “Can’t say I didn’t warn you. Baen wanted it to look like you overdosed; I shot ten milliliters of Zelat into your shirt sleeve. What you’re experiencing is normal, times a bit; it’s a type of contact stone. You’ll be numb for a while.”

“Numb... You’re not kidding— Wait? Ten? That’s an overdose” Dylan tried to pull his shirt off but flailed uselessly on the floor.

Kalish crossed back to where he was and helped him back onto the platform. “Relax, I checked, and the needle never scratched your skin. To be lethal, it would have to have been directly injected into your bloodstream. Most of the Zelat evaporated while it was in the shirt - check it for yourself, it’s almost dry now.” He hid his smile as Dylan tried to complete the motion and failed.

“Ha-ha. Hilarious. Sadist.” Dylan shut his eyes, trying to remember how long it took for the drug to kick in. He couldn’t. “How much longer before I’m high?”

Kalish checked his handiwork and adjusted the bandages. “Don’t worry, you’re as high as you’re going to get. My advice is to ride the body stone. You’re going to hurt, a lot, when it wears off—” Kalish winced as he looked at Dylan’s face. “I’m sorry about your nose.”

“Considering things, I’d say it was a reasonable sacrifice. Thanks for saving my life. I owe you one,” he paused as he considered his next words. “Why did you do it? You risked a lot, especially if Baen had recognized me.”

“Contrary to what you might think about Flynn and me, we’re not thugs. I imagine that despite this, you’re still going to have to turn us in.”

“You and Flynn were named on the warrant. I can’t change that. I can get command to take tonight into consideration, though.”

“You’ll speak up for both of us?”

Dylan tried to nod but failed. “The only thing you’re on the hook for is the Zelat, and that was a special order for Captain Varga, right?”

Kalish frowned, momentarily silent. He considered his words carefully before he spoke. “Yeah. Baen was the only option left. All of our other sources are in Tantrys,” his frown deepened. “Varga? Was this a set-up?”

“Kinda. We’ve known about his addiction for five months. It wasn’t our problem while he was stationed in the Clusters, his family has Rank. Now that his unit has been deployed, his problem has raised concerns about his competency.”

“So, we weren’t even the primary target in this bust?”

“Nope. We’re here to extract Varga and hand him back to his relatives. Cleaning up traffickers is a bonus; Baen showing up in person with the Zelat was a gift from the Gods.”

Kalish checked the time. “I’ve got to get back, or it’ll look suspicious. I’ll lock you in, just in case Baen sends someone to check—” he paused and looked up at the ceiling. “There’s a silverii problem down here. The lights are on a timer, so I’ll set them to stay on; you’re not going to be moving enough to keep them active.”

“You think of everything - Thanks.” Dylan shuddered, imagining what the tiny rodents could do to him in the dark.

“Nash tipped me to it. You can thank him too. He learned the hard way.”

“Kalish?”

“Yes?”

“What was in the Polk’t? I tested it, and it came up clean, but it wasn’t, was it.”

Kalish grinned. “Nothing illegal. I’d tell you more, but my dad would come after me with a hammer if I did. Catch a nap, and I’ll be back as soon as I can.” Kalish exited, sealing the door behind him.

*

The dull drone of the lights had almost lulled him to sleep when Dylan heard the main door beep. He opened his eyes. “Hello?” No one replied, but he could hear the person breathing heavily. The door slid shut and re-locked. “Who’s there?” The tone made it a command.

“They’re dead,” Kalish’s voice was a small thing in the room. “They’re all dead!”

“Who’s dead?” Dylan tried to sit up, but his body still refused. “Talk to me. Come over where I can see you.”

“Is this yours?” Kalish absently dropped a side-arm on the tray along with Dylan’s digipad and ID. He stared at the weapon, shaking.

“Shit.”

“Baen had it. His body’s there too. I don’t get it— Flynn doesn’t carry, none of our crew did, but everyone had a—”

“Everyone had a gun? C’mon Kalish, I need you to focus. Were they all armed? How many bodies?”

“Guns, yes. How many bodies?” Kalish closed his eyes, recalling the scene in his mind’s eye. “Flynn, Xeon, Cas, Baen and two of his guys. The pallet-jack was gone.” His eyes opened again, his pain radiated from him in waves. “Baen’s a crazy fuck, but the deal was over. He had his money. This doesn’t make any sense.”

Dylan did the math. “Three of his men are still at large, I’m assuming with the pallet-jack. They’ll either take that back or ditch it somewhere where it’ll blend in. Which of the cargo docks uses the red trim?”

“Bay four. It connects directly to the tunnel, North. I— I think I’m gonna be sick.” Kalish emptied the contents of his stomach on the floor, dropping to his knees as he did.

“I’m sorry, truly.”

Kalish stood and nodded, wiping the taste of bile from his mouth. He’d stopped shaking.

“I need you to help me call this in. Will you?”

Kalish nodded again and picked up the digipad. “Number?”

“P-nine, extension one. Ask for Colonel Sunde.”

“I’m not talking to him. I’ll hold it up to your ear, but— once you’ve done this, and they’re on their way, I’m out.”

“The hell? You’re a witness; you’ve got an active warrant on you. Kalish, there’s nowhere you can run. We can protect you.” Dylan managed to sit up and instantly regretted it. “C’mon, if you leave here, they’ll kill you.”

“You said that your team is just here for Varga, right? Some sort of extended health deal for twats with Rank? I’m one of the traffickers. No one’s gonna be interested in my welfare, not once I testify. If I’m gonna be picked-off, I want to choose the when and where. I’ll help you with the call, and then I’m a ghost in the world.” Kalish typed in the numbers and held the digipad up to Dylan’s ear.

“Colonel Sunde, please. Tell him it’s Lieutenant Glass,” he studied Kalish while he waited. “Sir, there’s a problem. Our intel was bad; the deal happened early, and Baen was involved. Six dead, including Baen... Yes, sir. The hydroponics dome, Eastern wall. Three of Baen’s men are missing, as is the pallet-jack they were using; red markings, so Bay four, North... Sir, I’m in Med-Bay seven— I’ll explain that later... Yes, sir. I saw the merchandise, but I’m uncertain as to its location now... No, sir. I’m in stable condition, deal with the other mess first. I’ll give you my report when I see you.” He nodded, and Kalish turned the device off. “I’ll explain how you weren’t involved and try to get the warrant lifted.”

“Thanks.” Kalish put the device back in the tray and went to the cabinet of supplies. “I’m going to need a few things.”

“Are you sure you won’t accept our help? Colonel Sunde is a good man.”

“I’ll take your word on that and no. Working for KMR and D makes me easy to find. I can’t go home, but I do have other options—” Kalish managed a weak smile. “You’ll understand if I don’t tell you my plans. You’re a witness too, and Baen’s remaining crew might torture you to find me.” Kalish filled his pockets with various meds then went to the sink. He put the plug in and filled it. He dropped his digipad and ID card into the water.

Acrid smoke drifted up as the device shorted out.

“Done.” Kalish fished the items out of the sink and dropped them in the recycler.

“Wouldn’t recycling have been enough?”

“One of the big upgrades during the dome expansion was to the recyclers. The new extractors are hypersensitive to water, even trace amounts. The soak ensures that my bits will be broken down completely.” Kalish unplugged the sink.

“Still, isn’t that overkill?”

“Maybe.” Kalish shrugged.

Dylan leaned forward slightly to glance at his watch. “You should go if you’re going.”

Kalish paused at the door. “Will you say bye to Nash and Roz for me? I’m not gonna have time.”

“Of course,” Dylan managed a nod. “Hey, wait—”

“What?”

“I’ve got something in my wallet that might help you,” he gestured at the tray with his chin.

Kalish opened it and frowned.

“I was playing Nova last week, and one of the guys only had trade currency on him. Take it. You can’t be tracked using it.”

“I don’t know what to say,” Kalish smiled at him. “Thanks. I take back all the shitty things I thought about you earlier.”

Dylan’s mouth curved into a half smile in response. “A final question, just to satisfy my curiosity.”

“Sure.”

“How’d you come up with my alias so fast?”

“William Archel was my first crush; you look a bit like him.” As the door slid open, Kalish blew Dylan a kiss, and then he was gone.

*

An urgent beeping roused Roz from her slumber. “It’s yours. I turned mine off before we went to bed,” she murmured without opening her eyes.

Nash’s arm arced over her as he groped for the digipad. He retrieved it, only to lose his grip and drop it on the floor. His next move was to pin her to the bed as he attempted to reclaim it.

“You did that on purpose,” Roz giggled, half asleep.

“Did what?” He pressed his advantage and kissed her as his fingers secured the device. Nash brought the screen in close and squinted as he read the time-stamp. “Shit.” He scrambled out of bed pausing long enough to re-cover Roz.

“What?”

“I’m late. It’s almost noon... I’ve never slept in like this before.” Nash snatched his glasses from the nightstand, then dug through his laundry bag looking for something to wear. He found a clean t-shirt and socks, but no jeans. He emptied the bag out on the concrete floor and rummaged through it. “Where the hell—”

Roz pointed to the back of his chair. “Jeans. Fashion tip; underwear is considered an inside layer,” she added with a smirk.

Nash shot her a bemused look and dug a clean pair out of the pile he’d just created. He took the remaining ensemble into the bathroom and shut the door.

Roz snuggled back under the covers, closed her eyes, and went back to sleep.

*

The elevator doors opened, and Nash almost ran Doctor Kruvic down as he exited. “Sorry, ma’am,” he reached out to steady her as the doors slid closed behind him.

“I was about to send out a search party.” Vivienne stepped back further into the corridor, giving him room to follow. “Didn’t you get my messages?”

“Messages? No, ma’am, I only had one.” Nash checked his digipad and noted there were three unread alerts. “My apologies— Roz and I were celebrating my leave coming through and,” he blushed, “it was a late night.”

Vivienne’s eyebrows rose in surprise as she connected the dots. “Congratulations. How long have they given you?”

“Three months. We’re heading to Astel first so Roz can meet my family. Then we’re visiting her father in Ribal... We’re waiving the rest of the grace period. Roz said yes.” Nash’s expression grew serious as he pondered his next sentence.

“Congratulations, again, though I suspect you have something to add. Is there a problem?”

“I have a request.”

Vivienne’s face was a mask of genial anticipation. “Certainly. If it’s within my power to grant, I’ll do what I can.”

“I’d like to be transferred back to Ethos.”

For a split-second, Vivienne looked horrified, but her radiant smile erased all vestiges of her slip. “I see.”

“Please don’t think that I haven’t enjoyed working with you and your team, but, I have to consider Roz. She’s an artist, and Junelle is just a research station. There’s no venue for her here. Ethos is closer to hubs, to home - close enough that I could even commute to work, and we wouldn’t have to live on-site,” he took a breath, exhaling it slowly.

They’re not going to let you go, and you know it. You can’t protect Roz... She and your children will be subjects, the Darkness whispered.

I’m allowed to apply for transfers. It’s in my contract. I’m not an Official Subject. Nash shut the voice out before it could respond or rally the rest. “I have a selfish reason as well. Thallen is hosting a Science Symposium, on the twentieth anniversary of the cease-fire and it’s rumored that it’ll be a cross-border exchange of ideas. I’d be willing to bet that Doctor Santaro will be setting up a new design team to enter. Ma’am, I know she’d have me back, and it’s the opportunity of a lifetime. Junelle is over-run with Techs, and you’ve got other Tyran throwbacks to work with. My transfer wouldn’t affect your team’s performance. Considering how most of them feel about me, it might enhance it.” He waited, silently begging her to consider it.

Vivienne blinked and looked away, breaking eye contact deliberately. “The symposium is four years away, and it may not happen at all if the ceasefire ends, but I’ll do what I can,” Vivienne took Nash’s arm, patting it in a reassuring way as she led him to her office. “I’m certain that Doctor Maro would be interested in these developments. May I tell him?”

“Of course.”

She raised a graceful eyebrow. “As you’re going to be gone for three months, I should check your levels.” Vivienne rolled a med-cabinet over to the examination table and indicated that Nash should sit.

Fifty-foot needles, the Sarcastic voice taunted.

Shut up. Nash complied, extending his arm so she could wrap the band around his bicep. “Doctor Huri took them last week,” he gritted his teeth and looked away as she found a vein and slid the needle in. “Won’t those results still be valid?”

“Some, yes, but it wasn’t a complete workup. Your last physical was almost two months ago, and it indicated that you’re building resistances to your medications. I’d like to double-check things, just to be certain. I’m sure you’d prefer we make adjustments before there’s an incident.”

Spoilsport. The Darkness purred.

Shut up. “Point made, but I’ve been on some of this stuff since I was thirteen. Why is this only just happening now?”

“Doctor Maro has narrowed it down to a new metabolic issue, but he still doesn’t know what triggered it. The more we document, the better we can help you.” Vivienne pulled the vial off the needle and added a new one. She placed the full one off to the side, then brought the IV stand closer and retrieved an opaque bag from the locked cabinet by her desk. “You and Roz will both need your shots. Why don’t you call her and have her come up now? I can take care of both of you at the same time.” Vivienne began prepping him for the IV.

Nash reached into his pocket with his free hand and extracted his digipad. He typed in Roz’s number with his thumb and held the device up to his ear. His expression softened when she answered.

“Hey... Sorry to wake you but Doctor Kruvic would like to see you as well,” he glanced over at what Vivienne was doing as he listened and regretted it. He shut his eyes. “Twenty minutes? Okay, see you then.” Nash shut the digipad off and slid it back into his pocket.

“You can open your eyes, I’m done.”

Nash didn’t look, he didn’t need to see it to know the IV was in place. The back of his hand burned as a reminder.

“She’s on her way.”

“Excellent.” Vivienne retrieved a small vial tray from a lower drawer in the med-cabinet. Twelve ampoules of a greenish liquid filled the slots. She graced him with one of her radiant smiles, as she set it down. “Don’t worry, these are for Rozwyn.”

“What is it?” Nash reached for one then hesitated. “May I?”

Vivienne inclined her head in agreement. “It’s a weekly supplement.”

Nash examined the murky green liquid briefly, nodded and replaced the ampule from where he’d taken it. “I hope it tastes better than it looks.”

Vivienne laughed. “I’ve not sampled it personally, but I’ve been led to believe it’s sweet. If she adds it to a warm beverage like Jalat, coffee or tea, it’ll go unnoticed.” She swapped out the full vial of blood for another empty one. “You should lie down; I’ll be taking three more of these before I start the IV.” Vivienne held up the full one as a visual reference.

Nash took her advice, chuckling as his feet hung off the end of the exam table. “Given how much time I spend on tables like this, I should design an extension and carry it around with me.” He kicked off his shoes and bent his knees, so his feet could rest on the edge of the platform. “Much better.” He shut his eyes.

Vivienne dimmed the overhead lights. “Be grateful that you didn’t achieve your full height potential. Doctor Maro predicted that you’d be two meters tall after your final growth spurt.”

Nash yawned broadly, fighting the urge to sleep. “Trust me, I’m grateful.”

Vivienne watched as he lost the battle and began to snore under his breath. “Nash?” She smiled to herself when he didn’t stir and marked the time. She exited quietly and readied the adjoining room for Roz.

*

“You’re done, my dear. Nash’s treatment will take some time. Come back at fourteen hundred, and he’ll be ready to go.”

“Thank you, Doctor Kruvic.”

Vivienne waited until Roz had gone before she grabbed her digipad. She entered Doctor Maro’s private number and waited for him to answer.

“Hello, Vivienne,” Selwyn answered on the second ring. “This is a pleasant surprise.”

She took a deep breath, calming herself before she spoke. “We have a problem with Nine-Four-Two.”

“What sort of problem.”

“Were you aware that he’d been granted leave?”

“Yes. Three months. I signed the order myself.”

Vivienne could sense Selwyn’s presence, even though he was halfway across Korlune. She found it comforting. “He wants to transfer back to Ethos.” She looked through the one-way window into the exam room where Nash slept. “It could be innocent. He did cite Rozwyn as a reason for wanting to relocate. He mentioned he wanted her to have access to more venues for her art, and about wanting to be closer to home. It was all rather sweet.”

“Well, if we needed proof that the connection was sound, we have it. Before I forget, the samples arrived safely, and they’re all viable. I’ve begun stage two—”

Vivienne cut him off. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t finished. He also mentioned wanting to be on Alys’s team in the symposium. He could have heard about the event from any number of sources, but I happen to know that Alys hasn’t advertised that she’s an entrant yet.”

“I grow weary of hearing that woman’s name. She can’t contact Nine-Four-Two, I’ve had her blacklisted,” he paused. “Is there a reason you don’t think it’s something he arrived at on his own? He worked with her for a year, and she’s a logical candidate for a team lead.”

“I don’t know, Selwyn... I’m afraid. We’ve put so much into this project, and I’m running out of time. If we lose control of him now, I—” Vivienne couldn’t bring herself to finish. A tear slid down her cheek.

“When was your last treatment, Vivienne?”

She remained silent.

“Vivienne? Everything will be fine, trust me. Nine-Four-Two isn’t going anywhere except home for three months. His request for transfer will be denied, I’ll see to it personally. Why don’t you come to Nekkaro for a visit, I’ve got something new for you to try?”

*

Nash swallowed the last of the pills and grimaced. “You’d think I’d be used to the taste by now.”

“Perhaps those will be on the list of ones we change.” Vivienne didn’t look up from the screen.

“Gods, I hope so.”

“I’m curious, Nash, are you religious?” Vivienne watched as Nash stood and stretched.

He paused mid-movement and considered the question. “Why?”

“It’s not in your file, and you invoke the ‘Gods’ a lot.”

“Really? I’ll have to watch that at home. My Amma is a practicing Kai.”

“So, you’re Kai?” Vivienne took his pulse then made a notation on her digipad.

“No. I was drafted before I could go through the rituals of dedication.”

“Oh. I’m sorry, I wasn’t aware—”

“It’s alright, ma’am. No harm, no foul. The philosophy is interesting, but.” He smiled and shrugged.

“Please, continue, I’m interested.”

“Per the Kai-Dahl, Harkkur and Suulhé embody what’s darkest and lightest of the Divine spectrum, in that order. The Seven Facets: Galathe, Ulo, Sye, Tangl, Khos, Phar, and Chiralh, are their avatars and have a dark and a light side to their attributes. The teachings would have it that we are the foci for the Seven, and the direction their intent follows varies according to where we’re at in the moment. We offer up prayers to the Seven, individually, when something doesn’t manifest cleanly.”

“And the rest of your family? Are they devout?”

“My sister, Diani, still attends services, but I think that’s more for Amma’s sake. Mom converted when she married Dad, but she stopped attending after he was killed.” His smile faded. “Anyway, at the end of your life, if you’ve been faithful, Suulhé collects your soul. If you’ve been less than, you go to Harkkur—” Nash paused to yawn. “In a practical sense, the prayers keep you focused on self-improvement, but I’m a bit of a heretic. I think the ‘Gods’ represent what’s best and worst in us and that we’re each responsible for our own actions.”

“And yet you still invoke them?” Vivienne teased. Her digipad beeped, but she shut off the alert.

Nash chuckled. “I still pray sometimes, too. Maybe I’m just hedging my bets.”

A soft knock drew both of their attention.

Vivienne crossed to the door and opened it.

“Am I too early?”

“No. Your timing is impeccable, Rozwyn.” Vivienne shut the door behind her.

Roz moved to stand next to Nash. “You’re awfully pale,” she said as she caressed his cheek.

He grinned at her. “How can you tell?” He reached out and took her hand.

The corner of Vivienne’s mouth twitched as she noted the intimate gestures. “I’ll have Doctor Maro’s recommendations inside of an hour. What time does your train depart?”

“Tonight, at twenty-three hundred. Uh—” Nash’s grip on Roz’s hand got tighter. “Do you need us to delay?”

They’re not going to let you go, the Darkness whispered.

Nash didn’t answer; he waited to hear what Vivienne had to say.

“No. Come back at eighteen hundred, and I’ll have your new meds for you.” Vivienne bestowed a charming smile on the pair as they left, then extracted the digipad from her pocket and returned the call she’d ignored.

Selwyn answered immediately. “Vivienne.”

“Have you had a chance to go over the results yet?”

“Yes. I’m glad you did a full workup; his system has become resistant to over half of what we have him on. I still can’t isolate what triggered this hyper-immune response—”

Vivienne inhaled sharply but said nothing.

“We’ve caught it in time, don’t worry.” his voice soothed her like a warm blanket. “It’s going to be alright, Vivienne. Trust me. This isn’t going to set our plans back in any way. We’ll get you prepped for the procedure while you’re here and I’ll perform the surgery when he returns to Junelle. In four months’ time, you’ll be cured.”

Vivienne shut her eyes and tried to remember when she’d last been pain-free. “You’re confident that this will work?”

“Trust me, Vivienne. You’ll feel like a whole new you.”

*

“Uh— Hey, Dylan, it’s Nash. I’d hoped to catch you before we left. I’m having my calls rerouted, so you can reach us at this extension while we’re in Astel. It was great seeing you again, and— uh... Please give my best to Davis and Doctor Santaro when you see them,” Nash disconnected, punched in a new number and listened. “No signal. Damn.”

“No luck reaching Kalish?” Roz zipped her bag shut.

“No.” Nash frowned and looked at his watch. “His crew must have been called topside for a recovery. Ah well, we can’t wait. I’ll try him later.” He glanced over at Roz. “Still nervous?”

She looked up from what she was doing, her brow furrowed. “Yes.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” Nash leaned over and hugged her. “My family is going to love you.”

“I hope so.”

“If it helps, I’m afraid to meet your dad.”

Roz stared up at Nash. “Really?”

“I swear. I’ve heard that fathers are hyper-protective of their daughters, and he’s a doctor. What do you think he’ll do to me if he learns that I’ve seen you naked?” Nash’s grave expression dissolved into a grin.

Roz swatted him with her bag. “Or when I tell him that you ravaged me in a storeroom.”

Nash drew back in mock horror. “There are kinder ways to get rid of me; stand me in front of a firing squad or send me out to pick mushrooms in the Seep—”

Roz clapped her hands and laughed. “You’re such a loss to theater.”

He hugged her a second time, then swung his duffel bag over his shoulder. “Let’s go.” Nash motioned toward the door and then followed her out, locking it behind them.

*

“Sorry folks, I need to see everyone’s ID.”

The lights in the car came up to full brilliance, and Nash opened an eye. He squinted up at the man standing in the aisle. “Where are we?”

“Parlos Station. May I see your ID and travel passes, please?”

Nash nodded and extracted the documents from the inside of his coat. He gently shook Roz, who’d managed to remain asleep. “You need to show your ID.”

Roz sat up and blinked sleepily at the sergeant.

“Sorry, Miss. I need to see your pass as well.”

She nodded and presented it.

The sergeant looked them over and then returned them. “You’re both heading to Astel?”

“Yes, sir,” Nash replied, his attention drawn to the hive of activity on the platform outside. “What’s going on?”

“There was an incident at Junelle. We’re searching for suspects involved in it. Sorry to have disturbed you.” He moved on to the next group of passengers.

Nash studied the squads as they searched the goods on the platform. “They’re worried, and they don’t know what they’re looking for,” he commented under his breath.

“Don’t you mean ‘who they’re looking for’?” Roz leaned against him and studied the scene with sleepy interest.

Nash moved in closer, so only Roz could hear him. “No. The teams out there are more interested in the crates than they are in the people. The squad in the red uniforms only show up when they’re dealing with explosives.” He pointed toward the stairs that came down from the second level. “See that guy with the eye-screen? He’s doing an optical scan of the train. That blue light on the side of his visor means that he has a drone flying over the train and a rail sweeper working in tandem with him right now.”

Roz nodded then watched as the man in question approached then passed their car. “Do you think we’re in any danger?”

“No. These terrorists haven’t been targeting civilians.”

The sergeant walked back up the aisle, doing an open seat count. He paused near the front and activated the military radio attached to his collar. “All confirmed Diasporan in here. Eight seats available for Diasporan.” He watched the activity outside as he waited for a response.

“We have twenty-three, sending,” was the reply.

“Send eight. Assign an additional car for the overflow.” His tone brooked no further discussion.

“Yes, sir.”

The sergeant turned to face the passengers. “Again, sorry for the delay folks. I’m afraid you’re going to face more of the same at each stop. It’s going to double your travel time. We ask that you remain in your designated sections and not wander through the train while it’s stopped at those locations. Thank you for your attention,” he nodded to them and opened the door behind him. He stepped through, and twelve anxious looking people joined them, finding seats where they could.

The lights dimmed overhead, and Nash felt the subtle vibration as the maglev system activated and released its breaks. “We’re on our way.”

***

6. Diaspora 12 - Astel

The lights flickered on, signaling they were approaching their destination and the radial, metal shutters retracted from the exterior windows of the train. Nash could tell they were beginning to decelerate just from the vibration under his feet. With the added delays, it had taken a day and a half to make the trip.

“We should be in Astel in four minutes.” He watched out the window, squinting into the tunnel.

“What are you looking for?” Roz propped her chin on his shoulder as she followed his gaze.

“That.” Nash pointed at a dark spot on the wall as they sped by. “That’s the maintenance door Diani, and I used to cut through from inside the dome, to get to the skiffs.” He kissed her on the cheek.

“Skiffs? You didn’t—”

“Steal them and go for joyrides? Yep.” A broad grin crossed his face. “If you’d asked me back then what I wanted to be when I grew up, my eight-year-old self would have said train engineer.”

“But that’s illegal,” Roz glanced around at the people in the car with them, but no one seemed to be listening in.

“Being an eight-year old train engineer?”

Roz swatted him playfully. “Tunnel running. You could have been killed. Did you ever get caught?”

“Twice. Both times we were taken to central detention, but because we were juveniles they sent for Mom,” Nash stood and gathered their bags from the overhead storage. Something in Roz’s satchel clinked sharply. He raised an eyebrow as he looked at her.

“A surprise for later. Continue your story,” a mischievous smile tugged at the corners of her mouth.

“The second-time Mom came for us, she threatened to leave us in the tunnels for the Korva unless we promised to behave. We stopped, but the dream never really died.”

The windows adjusted their tinting making the gradual transition from dark into light. The Diaspora city of Astel was now visible through the windows. Sunlight beat down on the surface of the geodesic dome, creating long streamers in the dust-laden air as it filtered through the protective layers. The skyline hearkened back to an earlier age, and yet it managed to maintain its dignity despite its worn facade. Life still flourished here. Muted noises from the streets beyond, reached them inside the train. People moved along the platform, searching for friends, family, or for exits back to their lives. To the east, a large structure dominated the buildings around it. It alone seemed cold and lifeless.

“What’s that?” Roz pointed to it.

“The old Tellium mine. You can see it from anywhere in Astel; it’s a good visual reference if you get lost. Mom works at the main reactor over there.” Nash pointed past the mine, to a domed structure at the top of a hill. “The shop where Diani works is to the North East, along the rim of the dome, and our apartment is about seven kilometers to the South of here.”

People from the car behind them flooded the compartment hoping for a faster exit.

“Let’s wait until they clear out,” Nash slung their bags over his shoulder and took her hand. “Still nervous?”

She squeezed his hand with affection. “Yes and no.”

“You’ve got nothing to worry about.” Nash stooped and kissed her on the cheek. “They’ll love you.”

*

Diani sat heavily at the kitchen table, drawing her mug over. “Mom’s curse about having children just like me has come to pass.”

“I’m surprised you managed to get them out of the apartment after yesterday’s excitement.” Suna took the baking out of the oven and put in another batch. “Hungry?”

“Famished.”

Suna emptied the fresh buns in a bowl and joined her granddaughter at the table.

They both heard heavy boots in the hall, and the lock on the main door beeped as an ID card was used to open it.

“Good morning, Pari.”

Pari slung her coat onto a bare hook. “Morning, all,” she called as she took her boots off. She walked into the kitchen, poured herself a coffee, noting the empty chairs as she took a trial sip. “They’re not up yet?” She sat next to Diani and reached for the sweetener.

Diani grinned. “They’re up... to something.” She held her fingers to her lips and faint, rhythmic sounds filled the hush.

“Ah, youth.” Pari let the warm beverage sooth her nerves.

“I’m looking forward to having more babies in the house,” Suna set her drink down on the table and joined them. “They keep me young.”

“Don’t get your hopes up yet, Amma. Nash might not get a transfer.”

“KMR and D always moves couples closer to their families,” Pari commented between sips.

Diani shrugged. “I’m not sure Roz wants to live here. She didn’t seem very keen on the idea when I brought it up last night.”

“She was just nervous. Of course, she’ll live here. It’s tradition. I moved when I married, as did your mother—” Suna began.

“Sorry, Amma, but I didn’t,” Diani set her mug down.

Pari raised an eyebrow at her daughter. “Vincent was already working here when you were paired. He elected to stay.”

The corners of Diani’s mouth turned up into a smile. “He asked me what I wanted to do.”

Pari studied her daughter for a moment. “Is there something more to this, Diani? Don’t you like Roz?”

“Honestly, I don’t know her, yet. I can’t say. She seems nice, and Nash obviously adores her, but—”

“But?”

Diani shrugged and met her mother’s questioning gaze. “There’s nothing I can put my finger on; just a feeling. Maybe I’m just over-protective; he is my little brother after all. How was work?”

“Depressing; we’ve had to shutdown the primary reactor again, and there’s a new coolant leak I can’t track. We’ll begin rolling brown-outs in the residential districts, tomorrow, to give us more time to fix this, but if it takes longer than a week, we’ll have to move to structured blackouts to take the pressure off the grid. I’ve already submitted my report to the Canton.”

“What’s your recommendation, Pari?” Suna asked.

“Shut the reactor down and rebuild, before it’s too late. I had Errol check, and the old solar grid could be brought back online to cover us during the process. Kairoe’s offered us access to their personnel, scrap-yard, and extra fuel rods if we send a team to help them retrofit their recyclers when we’re done. The whole project should only take two years, with their help; it’s a fair trade. I—”

The sounds from down the hall suddenly grew louder, then silence fell, and all three women exchanged a smirk.

Suna took another bun and cut it in half. “Don’t worry. The Canton will approve your proposal. Eat these, before they get cold.”

The pipes groaned as the shower was activated.

Pari took two, drained her mug, then stood. “Anyone else need a refill?” She crossed over to the narrow counter.

“Yes, please.” Diani stood and joined her mother.

“Damn thing seems to make less each morning,” Pari frowned as the dregs barely gave them each a third of a cup. She sat the carafe back on the counter with a dissatisfied grunt.

“We have two extra ration cards to draw from; I think we can splurge on a second pot,” Diani slid her ID card into the slot on the side of the pot, selected the button for coffee and pressed start. It beeped once, and the light went out.

“Not again,” Diani snorted, smacking it for good measure. “Don’t you dare dock my card, you piece of crap.”

“Abusing it won’t help,” Suna helped herself to another bun.

“Mom, my diagnostic gear is at the shop, do you have yours on you?”

“Here,” Pari reached into her vest and extracted a small scanner. “Judging by the smell, I’d say that it’s a short.”

“Did they give you a date for a replacement, Amma?”

“I was told ‘soon’, several months ago.”

“That means sometime next year if we’re lucky.” Pari plugged her scanner in and went through each system. “Damn. Never mind, there’s an old carafe at work I can borrow until I can order parts or the new one comes in.”

“If they’re looking for the same model we may never see it. The company hasn’t made this model for over forty years.”

“Replacement? Something broken?” Nash spoke Korlo as he stepped through the doorway. His towel-dried hair defied gravity.

“The molecular assembly module in the thermal carafe is shot. No coffee,” Pari shifted from Astelang to Korlo to answer him then disconnected her scanner.

Nash raised an eyebrow. “Mind if I look?”

“Please, work your magic.”

“Good morning, everyone,” Roz said as she followed Nash into the kitchen. She’d tied her damp hair back into a long ponytail.

“Good morning. Did you sleep well?” Suna spoke slowly her Korlo blurred by her accent. She indicated that Roz should sit next to her. “Have a bun while they are still warm.”

“Yes, and thank you.” Roz selected one closest to her and cut it into quarters.

Diani reached over and extracted one from near the bottom. “Nash— catch,” she tossed it to him.

He turned in time for it to hit him in the forehead, but he caught it as it fell. “Thanks,” he took a bite and returned to his work humming as he chewed. “Mom, do you have a spare hydrolyser unit I can scavenge for parts?”

Pari looked over at her coat and stood. “Yes, at the plant. I’ll be back in—”

“Sit, Mom. The shop’s closer,” Diani collected her jacket from the stand. “I’ll grab my tools while I’m there and with any luck, everything will be working in time for dinner,” she glanced over at Roz. “Why don’t you come with me? It’ll give us a chance to get to know each other.”

“That sounds great,” Roz stood, flashing Nash a hopeful smile when Diani turned away.

He crossed the kitchen and hugged her close, whispering, “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine. Just remember, if all else fails, go for the eyes.”

“I heard that smart-ass—” Diani turned and paused when she saw Roz pull her coat out of her pack. “Wow.”

“That’s not synthetic, is it? I’ve never seen a blue that saturated,” Pari reached over and felt the cuff. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s hemp. I bought it in Elune after my first art season.”

“It must have cost a fortune,” Diani’s expression darkened as she glanced at her own jacket.

“While you’re out, would you mind picking up a few things at the market?” Suna didn’t wait for an answer, she handed Roz a shopping list, instead. “Make sure the Kuvalo is fresh.”

Diani peeked at the list. “Alright; we should be back in a couple of hours if the lines aren’t outrageous. C’mon, Roz,” she motioned toward the door.

“If you’re going as far as the market, you could swing by the plant and pick up the spare carafe... just in case things don’t go as smoothly as planned.” Pari reclaimed her seat and stretched her long legs out under the table.

“Anyone else? Nash? You need anything?”

“Nope, I’m good,” he paused. “Wait.” He reached into his pocket and extracted his ID card. “Here, use this for the shopping - get whatever extras you need.” He tucked the card into Roz’s hand.

“Let’s go, before they discover more errands for us. Amma, could you pick the kids up for me?”

“Certainly.”

Nash caught Roz’s attention. “Have fun,” he snatched another bun and joined his mother at the table.

*

Parts from the carafe littered the table between them, as mother and son worked on cleaning it.

“Could you pass me another swab... there’s four decades’ worth of residue on this relay,” Pari wrinkled her nose.

“Here,” Nash handed her the container without looking up from what he was doing.

“Damn it. This is burnt bio-gel; see how it etched into the board. That kind of makes you wonder about what it does once it’s inside your body.”

Nash looked up, squinting at what Pari held. “If Diani can sneak me into the Mech-Bay at her shop, I’ll resurface that board,” he paused and sipped at his drink, spitting it back into the glass. “Ugh, this is foul. Are the water recyclers down again?”

Pari shook her head. “No. We just need new filters. We’ve been reconditioning these ones for the last two years.”

“What’s the holdup? Even back-orders don’t take that long.”

“We’ve lost active trade status with the Guild. We’re back to barter and bribe.”

“Fucking trade guild.”

“Language,” Suna commented from the other room.

“Sorry, Amma.” Nash stood and crossed to the fridge. “It’s a little early, but I’m going to have a beer. Mom? Do you want one too?”

“Not right now.”

He returned to his seat and examined the housing on the carafe in greater detail. “Hey, did you know there are two space-holders for selection buttons on this thing? Any requests?” Nash took a sip of his beer and smiled as it erased the taste of the water.

“Jalat would be nice,” Pari grunted as she continued her war to salvage the board.

“Sequencing code three-three-one-two-seven-five. How you can drink that crap is beyond me, though; I think all that time in the reactor has killed your taste buds.”

“I’ll grant you that real Jalat is better than the vend-o-mat variety, but I’ll take what I can get.”

“One button left. Amma?”

“Can you get it to make an acceptable Quri tea?”

“Three-four-seven-two-two-five.”

Pari looked up and grinned at her son. “I seem to recall reading somewhere that Makondi-Core holds the patents on vend-o-mat chipsets. Do I want to hear the story about where you acquired the sequencing codes for them?”

“A Mech friend at Junelle got me a copy of the repair manual so I could ‘repair’ the vend-o-mat in their break room. It had all the codes listed in the—” Nash’s digipad beeped, and he frowned as he checked who it was from. Korlune Internal Security? A cold shiver ran up his spine. What the hell do they want?

Told you they wouldn’t let you go. The Darkness used the adrenaline spike to gain a toe-hold.

Shut up. The Special Projects Division can’t use KIS as their proxy – KIS works exclusively for the Council. That thought didn’t make him feel better. Nash stood and flashed a distracted smile at his mother. “Excuse me, I have to take this.”

“Roz?” Suna asked as she returned to the kitchen.

“Uh— no. Work,” he crossed into the living room then answered the page. “ID W-D-T Nine-Four-Two, Tech Korpes, Nash X speaking. Hello?” He listened, his frown growing. “Can you tell me what— Oh... Yes, sir... Yes,” he looked up, catching the two women watching him. Nash gestured to them that things were alright, turned away and lowered his voice. “I see... Certainly, sir. I’ll be on the next commuter train; it leaves tomorrow at zero-four hundred... Oh, when? But, sir... Yes, sir... Yes, sir... The station in an hour.” Nash shut the digipad off and slid it back into his pocket. Shit. “Sorry, the repair will have to wait. They need me back at Junelle.”

Pari put the circuit board down. “What? They know you’re on Protocol leave, don’t they?”

I don’t think they care, Mom. “Yes.” He felt the stress reaction start and forced himself to smile. “Don’t worry; I won’t be gone longer than a couple of weeks.”

She eyed her son suspiciously, nodding to herself when he refused to meet her gaze. “If you must be at the station an hour, we’d better not chance the bus. I’ll go get the truck while you pack.”

Suna opened the narrow pantry and dug through a container to her right. “Would you like some D-ration bars to snack on?”

“My favorite,” Nash hurried back to his room grabbed his bag and stuffed a change of clothes into it. He glanced at the unmade bed and pulled his ID tags out from under his shirt. He slipped the cord over his head and carefully draped them across Roz’s pillow. It’s not a ring, but it’ll have to do for now. He slung his bag over his shoulder and hurried back to the kitchen.

“Here you go; I wish I had time to make you something,” Suna handed him a small bag. “Hurry back.”

“As fast as I can. Promise. Apologize to everyone for me and tell Roz I’ll call her when I get to Junelle.” Nash kissed her on the cheek and hurried out the door.

*

There were few private vehicles in Astel; fuel rods were expensive and heavily rationed, so most people relied on the commuter buses and trains that ran throughout the city. As the Master-Mech in charge of maintaining the city’s reactor, Pari had been given clearance to have one. She’d claimed an old truck she’d found in the central scrap yard and turned its restoration into a family project.

Nash slid into the passenger side taking care to be gentle as he shut the door. The truck seemed smaller than he remembered, but the red and white paint job was still as vibrant as it had been nine years earlier.

Pari engaged the primary drive, and the vehicle rose off the ground, then she released the brake and pressed her foot down on the accelerator.

Nash smiled as the truck glided smoothly out into the street. He leaned back and shut his eyes, trying to forestall the stress reaction he felt building up.

Don’t think about what’s waiting for you, focus on the now. Remember your part in the construction of this vehicle, the Kind voice offered.

Thanks. Nash focused on his memories of all his trips to the scrap yard and how he’d found treasure among the decommissioned military vehicles. A mothballed maglev tank chassis. He still remembered the horrified look on his mother’s face when he’d brought the beast home. It took us two months to cut it down and mod it to fit the truck body. The memory brought a small smile to his face. I had such a good childhood.

Pari remained silent until they were on the elevated beltway that ringed the city, then she’d plotted the course to the train station. She glanced at Nash then engaged auto-drive. “You know I hate it when you lie to me. Who was that, really? Are you in some sort of trouble?”

Nash opened his eyes and frowned. “Korlune Internal Security and before you start, I haven’t done anything wrong. All I was told was they need my assistance resolving something that’s happened at Junelle.”

“Why would they need your help unless you’re involved? The Council wouldn’t have deployed those thugs if it wasn’t—”

“Mom—”

“Please, Nash, tell me the truth—”

“I’m telling you the truth. I don’t know what they want. Mom, I—” Nash stopped himself. “I don’t want to fight with you. We were having such a good day. Please.”

“I’m not trying to pick a fight; I want to help if I can,” Pari’s voice broke. “I know you’ve kept things from us; your letters didn’t have to be redacted for me to see that you’d left out important details. Now, I—” Pari blinked back tears. “It’s my fault. I should never have let you sign that foul contract.”

You feel guilty? Nash’s frown vanished. “No, Mom! You didn’t have a choice. I’d been on KMR and D’s acquire list for years before they came to get me. If you’d protested, it would have ended badly—” Nash mustered a smile, reached out and held her hand. “I got a lot of concessions granted in my contract—”

“They’re not worth it—” Pari interjected.

He squeezed her hand affectionately as he cut her off in return. “Believe me; I’m completely satisfied with them. My favorite is the one that stipulates that you, Amma, Diani and her entire family, Vincent included, are exempt from the selective service system. With that single clause, I’ve protected four generations of our family from military conscription and Burn Crew duty; that makes everything worthwhile.”

Pari searched his face looking past the smile. “I’ve always felt like I let you down— You were so young—”

“Stop. I was thirteen. Some things were tough to deal with, but I survived, and now I’m home. If you think about it, we all have a better future thanks to KMR and D,” Nash gripped her hand tighter. “The largest employer in Astel was the mine. If I still lived here, odds are, I’d be out of work. Outside of Essential Services, Burn Crew is the only legit option. With the exemption clause in place, Vincent transferred laterally from the mine into Essential Services. If I’d stayed, we’d both be working Burn Crew, outside, in the Seep,” he shuddered dramatically. “KMR and D’s not bad by comparison. I’ve worked with good people, I’m indoors, and I got to meet Roz,” his smile brightened, banishing the cloud that had overtaken them. “I love you, Mom. I’ve never blamed you in any way, please don’t blame yourself. It’s just life. From my perspective, it’s worked out pretty well.”

The truck automatically decelerated as they approached their destination, then stopped and slid sideways into a reserved parking spot along the curb. The entire city block surrounding the station was cordoned off to foot-traffic.

“I’ve never seen this much security, not even during the war.” Pari counted the armed guards and military police that were between them and the station. “You promise that you’re not involved in something criminal?”

“I give you my word, Mom; they’re not here because of me.”

Pari exited the truck and waited for Nash to join her on the sidewalk. Sounds from the storm outside floated down to her.

They both looked up in time to catch a flash of lightning.

“Do you have a good crew working on dome maintenance?” Nash asked, squinting at a series of panels that had gone green.

“Yes, they all deserve medals. The long rains are early this year, speaking of which they’re not taking you over-land, are they?

“I have no idea,” Nash reached for his ID. “Shit.”

“What?”

“Roz has my card; I don’t have any identification on me.”

“Sorry, folks, the stations closed until later this afternoon,” a feminine voice declared.

They both turned to face the approaching security guard.

“Ma’am, I have to be on that train. KIS requested my presence in Junelle—” Nash began, but she cut him off.

“Name and ID. I can check you in,” the woman held out her hand.

“Tech Nash X. Korpes, ID W-D-T Nine-Four-Two and... I don’t happen to have physical ID on me.”

“Tags then,” she motioned at his neck.

He shook his head. “On my nightstand, I didn’t get much time to pack.”

She frowned.

Another guard noticed the exchange. “Problem, Katie?”

She eyed Nash and Pari warily. “No. I’ve got this.”

Nash took a breath, but before he could continue, Pari interceded.

“I can vouch for him,” she handed her ID over and watched as the woman slid it into the hand-held reader.

“Master-Mech Pari Korpes... Essential Services, Astel, reactor maintenance,” the guard’s gaze flicked to the red and white truck parked behind them in the reserved section; the ES tag was visible on the windscreen. She looked between them, comparing the pair to each other; her eyes narrowed. “There’s no question that you’re related.”

“The station manager knows us both if you require further proof,” Pari’s smile was a courtesy only.

Katie smiled back. “No, ma’am, that won’t be necessary,” she handed Pari back her ID, then printed off a flexible plastic card. “Here’s a temporary one for you, Tech Korpes; it’s only good for a week, so find your old one or register it as lost. You’ve got twenty-five minutes before you board. Go wait on the main platform. You’ve been assigned to car seven,” she handed the replacement to Nash.

“Thank you, ma’am. Thanks, Mom,” Nash kissed Pari on the cheek.

They walked to the platform in a comfortable silence.

“Don’t worry, I’ll be back soon…” He looked wistfully in the direction of the apartment.

***

7. Junelle Station

Two days later Nash arrived back in Junelle. He stepped off the train as it came to a halt and jogged to the wall that ran along the far edge of the platform. He slid the digipad out of his pocket, checking the text messages first.

“Message me when you get in. I’ll explain everything – Dylan.”

Nash tapped reply. “Platform eight, near the South wall.”  He hit send and then auto-called Roz.

She answered it on the first beep. “Nash?”

“You must have been sitting on your digipad. I just got in,” he looked up, scanning the crowd. “I’ll have to go in a minute, Dylan’s meeting me—” Nash spotted him and waved. “Damn, he’s here already,” he motioned again, this time, Dylan saw him and waved back.

“Nash, I—”

“Is something wrong?”

“No... Nothing’s wrong. I just miss you. Hurry back.”

“I’ll call you the moment I get this sorted, promise. Love you,” he pressed the digipad to his ear to hear her response over the noise.

“I love you, too,” she disconnected.

*

“I’m so sorry about this. I know you were on Protocol leave—” Dylan stood under a wall sconce.

“What the hell happened to you?” Nash stared at the bruises. “Is your nose broken?”

“Yeah, it’s nothing. I’ll get it fixed when I return to Lorsa,” he touched it with a self-conscious wince. “Let’s wait for the crowd to thin a bit. I’m supposed to take you to the interview room as soon as I collect you, but we need to talk, first.”

“Collect? Interview room? I don’t like the sound of either of those prospects. Am I being charged with something?”

Dylan hung his head and exhaling heavily. “I don’t have an answer for you, sorry. I don’t know.”

Nash frowned. “You have to have some sort of idea what’s going on.”

“Long story short, my squad and I were sent to Junelle on an extraction detail; pick up a Korlo officer who has a Zelat habit. The local dealer had already been tapped to get some, and that’s where things went wrong. There was a shoot-out in the gardens that left both dealers, along with most of their crews, dead.”

Nash paled. “Kalish and Flynn wouldn’t have anything to do with this, would they? Are they okay?”

“I’m afraid so, and no. Flynn is dead.”

“Aw, no. Kalish?”

“This is where things become complicated.” Dylan leaned in, lowering his voice. “Kalish ran; now he’s suspected of being a M’Kang infiltrator.”

“What? No way. Not a chance,” Nash snorted. “I don’t believe that— Surely you don’t. Someone’s got their wires crossed.”

“We discovered that one of the dealers, Baen, was using mercs as muscle. KIS ID’d one of the corpses as a known Ankor terrorist, and the moment they did, it became a matter of national security. Gods, Nash, I know Kalish is innocent. My CO has my report, and he agrees, but ever since those KIS dicks took over the investigation...” he grunted. “Everyone’s a suspect. C’mon, we should get moving.”

Nash followed Dylan toward the escalator. “So, I’m guilty by association?”

Dylan nodded.

“I wonder if Tantrys allows conjugal visits?”

“You—”

A wall of wind hit them, flinging the stragglers back across the platform. There was an unholy sound; a deafening cacophony of stone and glass as sections of Junelle were blasted free from their mountings and shattered against the portions that still stood. Metal supports twisted and gave way, adding an eerie wail to the crescendo. The vibration stilled, allowing clouds of dust and debris to settle over the remains.

Nash lay flat on his stomach, winded, his hands gripping the back of his head. Something cold dug into his cheek and armpit. Metal? Maglev track... I’m in the channel. His breathing was constricted by the dust, fumes, and a heavy weight that lay across his back. Nash tried to listen, but was deaf to all but a high-pitched ringing in his ears; ceiling tiles fell mutely around him, adding to the rubble that littered the platform. Everything hurt.

Nash blinked in an effort to clear his vision back to a familiar blur, but the world swam around him. Objects rested at odd angles, and there was two of everything. In the flickering light, he saw something glint among the cubes of broken safety glass and ceramic in front of him. Glasses. He reached out and felt his way to them, ignoring what his eyes were telling him. With utmost care, he lifted and examined them. Shattered... Right, lens intact. He put them on and looked around; his stomach lurched as his inner ear warred with reality. Half the station ceiling had collapsed, the maglev train had rocked off the rail and settled to one side. He could smell smoke.

The ground shook again, and Nash covered his head as more tiles dropped from the ceiling. That was above us. He tried to remember what was there, but fear made focusing impossible. Nash waited, counting to ten before removing his hands again. The backs of his fingers were speckled with blood. Cut? He ran his fingers through his hair, slowly, searching for injury and encountered something damp. He gagged when he saw the blood. His adrenaline surged.

Can you stand? The Kind voice asked.

“I don’t know, I—” Nash attempted to extricate himself and stopped as his attention focused on the wall to his left. Blood marked the spot where he’d impacted, and the force had broken the tiles. Lucky to be alive. He reached back to touch what was weighing him down and felt a hand.

Relief flooded through him. “Dylan.” It came out as a wheeze and Nash tasted blood when he spoke. His tongue sought the source, and he spat out fragments of a tooth. “Dylan, can you hear me? Answer if you can.” He went to take a pulse, and the hand moved. The arm pulled free and rolled to the ground next to him. Nash screamed and fought to get out from under his friend’s body.

The lights went out as the tunnel’s blast door sealed the passage.

Hard-link systems activate in three... two... one... Nash held his breath and steadied himself against the back of the train.

The dull red emergency lights powered on as the hard-link systems took over. The second stage lights flickered to life, illuminating the carnage around him. There was still two of everything, so Nash shut his left eye.

In the haze, he saw Dylan for the first time. Part of a support column had protected them both, but jagged chunks of tile stuck out of his friend’s back, shoulder and head. Nash’s adrenaline spiked again, and he started to shake. Cold. Nash stared at the body, willing Dylan to breathe.

That’s his blood on the wall, not yours, the Darkness spoke. He hit first.

Nash shook his head, which only made him feel worse. He leaned to the side and threw up.

The structure you occupy is unsafe. You need to move, now. You have broken bones and a concussion. Seek aid, the Kind voice urged.

“Aid,” Nash crawled back to Dylan and checked for signs of life. Nothing. He looked up at the wall again, and the Darkness’ words came home. His blood. Nash retrieved Dylan’s ID tags and tucked them in his pocket. He opened his mouth to say a prayer, but words failed him. I’m sorry. Nash turned and used the edge of the platform to pull himself upright. Sideways, he tilted his head to correct his perspective and threw up again. Fear gripped him as his legs threatened to give way. I’m going to die here.

Hands gripped the back of his coat as someone hauled him up onto the platform.

He looked up into the face of his benefactor and blinked. Blond hair. His eye traveled down to the shoulder holster he openly wore. Armed.

“Well, this is my lucky day, a Tech.”

Nash squinted, one-eyed, trying to make sense of the words.

The man knelt at his side and signed, “Deaf?”

Nash nodded weakly.

“It’ll pass.”

“Mech Dros, right?” Nash signed the words one letter at a time.

He hesitated. “Call me Stan. Can you walk?”

“Not without getting sick,” Nash tried to right himself. “The world’s on a tilt,” he said out loud. He didn’t recognize his voice through the muffling distortion.

“We’ve got to get to the emergency skiffs before things seal up,” Stan signed, then indicated the passage ahead.

“Too late... Blast door came down when the digi-link failed.” Nash signed with his right hand, clinging to the shorter man with his left.

“Fuck, fuckity—” Stan screamed at the ceiling.

“Fucked,” Nash agreed out loud.

He turned to Nash and signed. “Is there a Med-Station on this level?”

“At the end of the platform... We should find other survivors— Help—”

“Nope. I want out, and you’re going to help me. Anyone else is just baggage we can’t afford,” Stan led Nash in the direction he’d indicated. “You’re sure the tunnel sealed?”

Nash nodded, discreetly scanning the debris for bodies as they passed. He caught movement and stopped to watch as a man struggled free of the detritus.

“Help me, my leg is—”

Stan looked, pulled out his gun and fired.

The man dropped in a heap on the rubble.

“What the hell?” Nash yelled. He pulled away and fell to the floor.

He’s dead because you drew attention to him, the Darkness whispered.

“Damn you, enough! Stop!” Nash screamed at the voice in his head.

Stan ignored him as he checked the body. He rifled the pockets, took the man’s ID and digipad, then returned. “Get up,” he signed. “The only way we escape is if we’re smart, fast and lucky. Dragging useless dead weight around will kill us.”

“I’m injured, I’m dead weight,” Nash signed back, refusing to take the proffered hand.

“Ah, but you’re useful.” Stan offered his hand. “Besides, my old man always said, we Tyran have to stick together.”

Nash hesitated.

You’re not really going to trust this guy, are you? The Sarcastic voice screamed.

The Darkness rose from the depths. Kill him before you cease to be useful.

Accept his help, you need it. You want to see Roz again, don’t you? The Kind voice whispered.

Roz, Nash pictured her face. He took Stan’s hand and stood.

*

“C’mon, that last explosion was a little too close for comfort,” Stan shouted as he reached down.

Nash winced, gripped the hand and pulled himself up onto what remained of the overhead walkway. He sat on the edge while he caught his breath, surveying the structural damage. Hydroponics dome - shattered, reactor - damaged, residential sections - collapsed, tower - burning, Mech-Bay— He shut his eyes. He didn’t want to see any more. In the hour and a half since the first explosion, they’d managed to climb up three levels, through the devastation to the main floor. Five more blasts had shaken Junelle in that time, each adding to the damage. The carnage had been frightening, but now he was almost blind to it.

They’d seen a few survivors, but not many. The emergency responders were either dead or trapped with those around them. There were people buried in the ruins, alive and crying for help. Stan seemed to be able to tune them out, and Nash envied him. He couldn’t hear the screams, but he instinctively knew they were there. His skin itched, but scratching wasn’t an option, it would just cause a rash. Early stages of exposure. If there’s a storm, or worse, ground fog— He scanned the horizon for signs of weather and spotted the tell-tale clouds.

“It’ll be dark in six hours. We should try for one of the maintenance towers, overland. Westline is the closest.” Nash wiggled his jaw, hoping to get some relief from the high-pitched whine, but it didn’t help. Nothing did.

“Right. Time to hit the Mech-Bay for a transport—”

“Can’t,” Nash pointed past the remains of the multi-layered, industrial glass wall. “See that big depression in the ground to the North? That was the Mech-Bay. It must have collapsed during the initial blast,” he coughed up blood and spat it out.

Stan offered his hand to help as Nash stood. “Let’s see if we can access the Med-Bay on this level – they have survival packs we can use.” Something in the rubble ahead attracted Stan’s attention. “Stay here.” It wasn’t a request.

He’s just found another survivor, the Darkness taunted. How many does that make it now? Ten? That doesn’t even count the ones you’ve left buried alive—

Nash flinched as he heard a muffled shot and shut his eyes. “Please, no more.”

“Better me - quick and done, than something in the night that likes to chew. We both know these people won’t be alive tomorrow.”

“I wasn’t talking to you. I—”

Look at his expression, he thinks you’ve lost it, the Sarcastic voice jeered.

Nash looked.

Stan was staring.

He’s wondering if he should shoot you now, or do it later like he plans, the Darkness whispered.

Nash forced the voices back then spoke. “I don’t know how you deal with all this,” he gestured around them. “My mind’s in a million pieces right now.”

Stan’s eyes narrowed with suspicion. “How old are you?”

“Uh— I’m twenty-one. Why?”

“Shit. I’m sorry, kid, I just assumed you were closer to my age. You didn’t see active service, did you?”

Nash shook his head, and his stomach lurched. “How old are you?”

“Forty-seven,” Stan gave him a lopsided grin. “I’d survived two tours on the front, and the assault on Kes before you were three,” he indicated that they should keep moving. “If it’s any consolation, you’re doing better than I did during my first sortie.”

Nash walked in silence, trying to keep the nausea at bay. He wasn’t successful.

Stan surveyed their surroundings, casting a wary eye to the levels above them. “How much farther to the Med-Bay?”

“Only a couple hundred meters. It’s at the end of the causeway, to the left, just before the elevators,” Nash retched up bile.

“Stay here. I’ll come back for you.”

Nash watched him go.

He’ll be back to pick your corpse clean, the Darkness whispered.

“Shut up.”

He’s setting up the shot now, it continued.

“Well, if he does kill me, at least, I’ll be rid of you,” Nash dug through his pockets for his cigarettes smiling when he found them intact. He lit up and took a drag; the pungent atmosphere was instantly made more pleasant though his lungs tingled. Air quality has dropped again, he checked and noted the clouds were advancing. Nash looked down the causeway trying to catch sight of the shorter man.

He’s gone. He’s left you to the ‘things that like to chew’, the Darkness laughed.

“Fuck off,” Nash started in the direction of the Med-Bay. He was halfway there when someone grabbed his arm from behind. He spun, his fist raised.

A woman in an envirosuit stared up at him, “Woah, easy Nash,” she retracted the tinted shield, briefly so he could see her face.

“Cindy?” He pulled her into a hug.

“I’ve been trying to get your attention for the last five minutes. I really could have used your help on that last bit of climbing.”

He pointed at his ears. “It’s hard to hear anything over the ringing. Are you hurt? How did you get out of the control tower, the Mech-Bay’s collapsed?” Nash stood back, looking her over carefully.

“They scheduled me for evenings this week. I was in my room, reading when this happened. I’m all right though my arms hurt; it took me an hour to get the door pried open,” she gazed around at the destruction. “Do you know what’s going on?”

“No idea. I—” Nash heard Stan clear his throat behind him.

“Care to introduce me to your friend?” he gave Cindy the once-over.

“Stan, this is Cindy; she’s an air traffic controller,” Nash physically kept himself between them as he spoke. “Cindy, this is Stan. He’s one of the newer Mechs—”

“You’re the guy they call ‘Tiny’, right? Nice to meet you.” She smiled amiably and offered to shake his hand.

“Charmed,” he didn’t offer his in return.

She shrugged and looked up at Nash. “So, what are we doing? Do you have a plan?”

“Go overland to the Westline access, and then wait for rescue, underground,” he pointed out at the approaching clouds. “That storm’s going to hit just after nightfall. We need to get what supplies we can find and go.”

“Okay,” she looked them both over. “I know they keep spare envirosuits in the pilot’s lounge. I’ll go get them,” she paused, assessing Nash and Stan in turn. “They’re default Korlo sizes, I doubt they’re going to fit either of you very well.”

“We’ll make do,” Nash gestured for her to hurry.

Cindy jogged off in the direction of the main gallery. Stan waited until she was out of earshot before he spoke. “Bad news. It looks like I’m not the only one looking to skip. The Med-Bay’s been ransacked. I found a few supplies, but only the basics. Not enough for three.”

“We’ll make it work.”

“Is she a good friend?”

Nash glared at him. “Yes. She also meets all your criteria - she’s not dead weight. She’s not even injured.”

“Hmm.”

“Don’t hurt her.”

There was something in the tone that made Stan step back. “I see. It’s like that, is it?”

Nash lit another cigarette. “It is.”

“Do you have an extra?” He indicated the smoke.

Nash gave him one and lit it.

They smoked in silence, waiting for Cindy’s return.

*

“I found four envirosuits, some blankets, rations, and a locator. We can use the spare suits to stretch yours, Nash,” The speaker in Cindy’s helmet made her voice sound tinny. She hustled toward them with a box, dropped her treasure between them, and began to rummage through it. “I checked, but they didn’t have any kid sizes,” she tossed the smallest suit to Stan. “These are yours, Nash,” she dug deeper into the box.

Nash looked at the three suits he’d been given. “I’m not sure how this is supposed to work.”

“Just hold on,” she pulled a pair of shears and roll of industrial-grade binding tape out of the box. “Give me the largest pair first.”

Nash complied. He watched as she unfastened the gloves and boots.

“Put this on, and then we’ll measure you up.”

Nash stepped into the suit and pulled it up. The legs ended halfway up his calf. “The arms and waist will be short as well. I— Oh, I get it,” he smiled as she approached with the shears.

She cut the suit off midway up his chest then cut off the arms. “Slide these on, I’ll cut the next layer.”

Nash pulled the sleeves on, adjusting the cuffs to sit where they were supposed to.

She cut the cuffs off the second jacket and handed it to him to put on over the first layer. “Good thing you’re skinny,” Cindy then cut the lower legs off. “Put these on, and I’ll tape the joins. The boots, gloves, and helmet, will all seal properly now.” She looked over at Stan and snorted. “That suit fits worse than Nash’s does. Here, I’ll tape up the slack for you when I’m done,” Cindy remained oblivious to his evil mood.

Nash deliberately held eye-contact with Stan, wordlessly holding him at bay while she had her back to him.

“The gloves and boots might be a bit small, but there’s nothing I can do about that. The helmets always fit large, so you’re okay that way. Your turn, Tiny,” she turned, shears and tape raised.

He let her make the necessary adjustments. “Thanks,” he offered as she finished the last round of taping.

Cindy handed them both their helmets. “Put them on. I’ll check the seals for you. You first, Tiny.” She gestured for him to turn around as he activated the seal. “There, you’re—”

They were all knocked to the ground as something near them exploded. The force of the blast shook loose a portion of the West face of the tower, shattering windows, and dislodging portions of the wall above them. The debris rained down on the concourse below.

Nash looked up in time to see Cindy disappear over the edge of the causeway then all went black.

*

Nash opened his eyes and found himself staring up at the sky. The light had faded, and the dark clouds were almost on top of them. They swirled ominously, obscuring the stars of dusk and for a moment he was somewhere else, listening to the universe sing. He could hear it clearly, over the ringing, and it was the most terrifying thing he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t look away. His fingers clutched at the ground, reflexively, he felt like gravity had suddenly reversed itself.

Falling.

Stan leaned into view, and his voice crackled through Nash’s headset. “Get up,” he pulled Nash into a sitting position and pointed at the stone dome that covered Westline’s maintenance hatch. “I need you to open the inner hatch.”

“I don’t have my gear with me,” Nash rolled over, his heart threatening to explode. He stared at the ground to regain his bearings and willed himself not to throw up inside his helmet.

A Mech’s tool belt landed next to his hand. “Improvise, we don’t have much time. Prove I didn’t just pack you five-k for nothing.”

“Where’s Cindy?” Nash looked around then remembered.

“Back at Junelle. Don’t worry, she didn’t suffer.”

“Did you kill her?”

“Just get the hatch open; once we’re inside, we can chat all you like. C’mon kid, the rain will be here soon,” Stan looked back toward Junelle and scowled.

Nash crawled into the bunker and pulled himself upright, so he could see the control panel. A red light flashed in the upper right corner. “It’s been reset recently.”

“So, someone’s beat us to it? Caluvah vex!” Stan moved to stand beside him. “Can you open it again? We’re going to have other company soon.”

“I can if I get the system revert to the default hard-link code,” Nash slid under the panel and made a few adjustments.

“Work faster. The rain is only a couple of kilometers away.”

Nash stood, punched in an access code and the light went green. “Done.” He looked back at the door. “Do you want me to leave it unlocked for—” he turned and stopped when he noticed where Stan’s gun was pointed.

Nash stared at him, coldly. “Are you going to kill me now?”

“No,” Stan turned the oxidized wheel, unsealing the metal hatch and opening it. He motioned for Nash to enter. “Set it to lock on closing.”

Do it, then lock him out, the Darkness whispered.

Nash stepped through the hatch, and his hand lingered on the inner wheel.

Stan shook his head. “Keep moving, kid. I understand the temptation, but remember, I’ve got all the supplies in my pack and the only weapon.”

Nash ducked to keep from braining himself on the support beam and made his way to the back of the chamber.

Stan stepped in, shutting and sealing the hatch behind them.

“You’re leaving them out there to die,” Nash leaned heavily against the rough, concrete wall.

Stan pressed his finger to the front of his mask, signaling silence.

Nash listened and heard scratching echoing around them.

“That isn’t a person, it’s a Meerac. It must have crossed our trail on its way to Junelle and smelled the blood on us. I’m sure every scavenger within thirty kilometers has caught wind of the free feed by now,” he motioned for Nash to use the ladder. “Let’s go meet who we’re bunking with.”

*

Ten minutes later they exited into the dimly lit main tunnel.

“Hold it. I need to rest a minute,” Nash wheezed.

“Not now. There’s still a chance we can get through without being seen—”

“Too late,” someone hissed from behind them. “Stop. Put your hands on top of your head. Hey, Marissa. Visitors.”

Stan didn’t move.

“Easy, Shorty,” a woman stepped out of the shadow and claimed Stan’s gun from his hand. She handed it off to someone else further back, then produced a long, slender strap, and tied his wrists together. She tested the snugness of the fit before she secured the makeshift handcuffs to the hanger loop at the back of his helmet. “I’ll need help with the tall one.”

Nash felt the heavy boot hit him behind the knees and he went down, hard.

Everyone heard his helmet connect with the maglev rail.

“Cover me,” she commanded as she crossed behind Stan. “On your knees, stretch... Get up!” She prodded Nash in the side.

He didn’t move.

“The kids had a rough day, I’d just leave him there for now,” Stan scanned the tunnel ahead of them for movement.

Marissa knelt next to Nash, turned his left arm, wrist up and checked the readout of his vitals. “Broken ribs, internal bleeding, concussed... alive. Helmet’s cracked,” she stood back up. “Strip them and leave them for the Korva.”

“Nahali Na’kaj,” Stan smiled behind his visor.

“Nahali, Na’karu,” Marissa responded. She made a gesture into the gloom, and more of her people joined her. “What Diaspora are you from, and what branch do you serve?” she stepped closer.

“Urvael, branch four. You?”

“Danny, check him,” she motioned to one of her men, and Stan felt someone pull on his helmet.

“Watch it, my neck doesn’t bend that way.”

A bald man stepped in front of him, cut through the tape, and unsealed the envirosuit. He produced a small, black-light flashlight from his pack, and began examining Stan’s torso. The tattoo fluoresced on the left side of his rib cage. “U-two-five-eight-eight.” Danny smiled and pulled Stan’s shirt back down.

“Tynne, branch two,” she showed her mark then gestured at Nash. “Him too?”

“Nope. Booty or ransom, I haven’t decided which yet. I’d like to barter,” he gestured to Danny to untie him.

Danny looked to Marissa, who nodded. “We’ve no grudges with Urvael. Cut him free.” She looked down at the body next to her. “Is this one dangerous?”

“Not in his present condition,” Stan resealed his suit. “Can I get a hand carrying him?”

Marissa nodded to someone standing behind him, and two men passed him, stooping only long enough to get a grip on Nash’s envirosuit. They lifted him off the ground, and she indicated the lit passage further down the tunnel. “Take him to the control room,” she inclined her head, motioning for Stan to follow them.

Stan casually looked behind as they were walking and did a quick head-count.

Marissa fell into step with him. “What brings you to Junelle? It’s a little out of Urvael’s normal rangings, isn’t it?”

“If memory serves, it’s a little out of Tynne’s as well.”

“Fair enough.” She looked back in the direction of the ruined station. “Do you know what happened? We were in the tunnels when the blast door dropped.”

“You weren’t topside? You didn’t open the hatch before us?”

“No,” her brows furrowed.

“Someone got past you.”

She turned to her men. “Danny, take Paul, Bill and... Shadow – run a sweep. Count the skiffs,” she turned back to Stan as an animal whined in the darkness.

“You have a Kualt for tracking?”

Marissa nodded.

He hopped up on the siding and watched the two men wrangle Nash through the door, into the control room. “I need a skiff, rations, and ammo.”

“We have skiffs and ammo to offer. We need fuel rods, IDs, currency, and rations as well.”

Stan sat at the desk and emptied his pockets. “I have fourteen IDs and ten digipads to offer,” he swung his pack up onto his lap. “As well as this.” He pulled out a long tube and set it with the other items.

Marissa raised an eyebrow as she assessed his trade. Her gaze shifted down and came to rest on Nash. “Your bounty – what’s he worth as a ransom?”

“Not much I expect. I didn’t have time to be selective.”

They studied each other for a moment, like predators in the dark then she laughed.

“He has skills, or you wouldn’t have dragged him along. What’s his trade?”

“He’s a twenty-one-year-old Tech, how good can he be at anything?”

Marissa stared at Nash. “Indeed,” she turned and straddled the chair across from Stan, leaning on the back, so they were eye-level. “We’ll take what you have on the table in exchange for a weeks’ rations and ammo. If you want the skiff, you leave the Tech here.”

Stan leaned back in his chair and stretched his legs out under the table. “That doesn’t work for me. If I go home empty-handed, they’ll leave me topside to rot. How about you take the offered trade and give me the skiff as a token of goodwill between M’kang?” Stan gave her his most charming smile.

Hers was a frosty reflection.

Echoes announced the searcher’s return.

“A skiff’s missing. The digi-feed and departure log was wiped.”

“Well, that’s one less thing to worry about,” Stan’s sarcastic grin faded as he shuffled the IDs. “Back to our deal. Seven of these are military, two civilian and... the remaining ones all belong to maintenance personnel. I would be treated like God-for-a-day if I came home with these. “He ran his hand down the long cylinder that sat between them, caressing it. “What you see here is a new model of Haloryn cell put out by Harlo-Fyre. This single unit is ten times more efficient than the ones traded in the Diaspora. Get your teams to mod a generator and use this thing to power it. You won’t need a replacement for a decade. If not, sell it and make enough credits to buy better kit.”

Stan locked eyes with her as he lined the digipads up. “These all correspond with an ID in that pile. Cracking the passwords will be simple enough, and then you have access to Deadman accounts and funds for the next few days. I say it’s a fair trade for what I want.”

Nash groaned and rolled over onto his back. His fingers worked at freeing the helmet. There was a slight popping noise as the seal released.

Marissa watched then turned her attention back to Stan. “You’ve just convinced me that he’s a lot more valuable than you’re letting on, but, as I don’t have time to find out why, he’s worthless to us. Keep your Tech. The barter stands, as does the goodwill.”

They shook hands over the loot, and the deal was done.

*

Nash felt himself being lifted off the ground and draped into a stretcher.

“Careful with his arms.”

He opened his eyes to look. Lights. “Ow,” he shut them again when his head threatened to explode. As he was lifted, his stomach lurched. Nash felt the vibration of each step, and it added to his pain. A tear leaked out of the corner of his eye as they passed the stretcher up onto the skiff.

“Secure him to the floor,” Stan ordered.

“Silent passage,” someone said as they jumped off the skiff.

“Nahali, Na’karu,” Stan replied.

Nahali Na’karu— familiar. Nash focused. Nahali... Nahali Na’karu... Accent’s odd... The end of Kai’s Prayer for the Dead! ‘All souls as one, return’. A snippet of conversation came back to him. Goodwill between M’kang? Nash opened his eyes and tried to sit up. The cargo netting kept him flat. He felt the vibration as the skiff rose off the rail and began to accelerate. Nash’s mind worked overtime to provide him with horrific potentials for his fate. I’m dead.

You are alive, the Kind voice broke through the fear. He hasn’t harmed you, rather, he has kept you safe.

“To what end, though?” Nash struggled against the netting.

“What was that?”

Nash realized he’d spoken out loud. “Nothing. Where are we going?”

“Somewhere safer.” Stan set the controls for autopilot and grabbed the med-kit.

“Where’s safer?”

“Somewhere other than here.” Stan placed the scanner next to him and rifled through the contents of the case. “Allergies?”

“Synthetic meds. You haven’t really answered my question.”

“What blood type are you?”

“Why?” Nash tested the netting again and felt it give a bit.

“I may need a transfusion; I want to know if we match.”

“Tyran. You’re wounded?”

Stan smiled at the concern he heard in Nash’s voice. “I was caught in the same blast you were, and good, we match,” he peeled himself out of the envirosuit. Blood had soaked through the back of his shirt on the right side and formed an angry blotch on the green. “I’ll need a hand with this,” he released straps for the cargo net. “How’s your head? Think you can focus enough to help?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Something heavy struck the windscreen, slid to the side, and disappeared. The residual blood-splatter formed beads and trailed after the body. Scraps of fur and broken bits of bone were all that remained of the large winged rodent.

“Korva,” Nash identified it as he sat up. His head throbbed, but he ignored it. “We must be ripping along if we managed to hit one.” He crawled over to Stan and took a closer look. “It looks like whatever got you is still in there. I can see parts of it... Something metal. I can take care of this—”

“I didn’t have my jacket on when I was hit, the wound’s been exposed to open air. Scan first. You’d just have to undo everything if I’m infected.”

Nash set the device to check for the characteristic signs of contamination. He held his breath as the levels started to climb.

Stan remained motionless while the device did its work.

It beeped.

“Well?”

“You’ve got a mild fungal infection, but it’s not in your bloodstream. I’ll be able to treat it with what we have here.” Nash crawled over to the med-kit and started examining the remaining bottles. “Did you see any Rycellin tablets— Never mind, found them.” He crept back to Stan and handed him the bottle. “Have you taken these before?”

Stan shook his head.

“Trust me when I say they taste like shit. Take two every twelve hours for—” Nash checked the chart and cross-referenced the levels. “The next six months.”

Stan popped two of the little yellow pills into his mouth and suffered in silence as he swallowed them. “Gods, you weren’t kidding.”

Nash patted him sympathetically on the shoulder and started to clean the wound.

“I can’t feel that at all. You’ve obviously had some training.” Stan relaxed as the skin seal soothed the raw flesh.

“I had a passing interest in medicine when I was seven, so I read a few books. It wouldn’t have been a good fit. I have a crappy bedside manner.” Nash focused on extracting the remaining bits of debris from the wound.

Stan laughed. “Seven– that’s a good one.”

Nash finished cleaning the wound and scanned it again. “Looks like I got it all.” He dressed it. “I’ll change that in a few hours—”

Another Korva hit the windscreen. Three more followed in rapid succession.

“What the hell?” Stan reclaimed the pilot’s seat in time to see the darkness in front of them ripple. He turned on the front spotlights and saw the mass of winged rodents just as it hit. “Shit!” Stan rolled out of the chair as the mass collided with their skiff.

Nash scrambled over to the controls and dropped the metal shades before the windscreen shattered. He claimed the pilot’s chair, wincing as he pushed the chair back as far as it could go. “Stay down,” he ordered as he turned off the auto-pilot and took control. He held them steady as the Korva smashed into them. “Where are we heading?”

“Parlos. I’ve never seen Korva swarm; any idea what made them?”

“A sound would be my guess; something they weren’t habituated to.” A red light flashed on the dash and Nash ran a check of the intakes then flushed them. The Korva passed, but he didn’t raise the shades. Instead, he turned on the beacon and waited for an acknowledgment from Parlos. It never came. “What was going to happen when we got there?”

Stan stood and indicated the med-kit. “Your turn.”

“Answer me. It’s not as if I’m in a position to put up a fight.”

“We were meeting my connection and transport home. I planned to take you back,” he picked up the med-kit and brought it to where Nash sat. “Advanced Techs are something we need, badly. I didn’t have time to research you, but you’ve demonstrated you have skills.”

“So, you salvaged me without knowing anything about me?”

“Not entirely. I knew you were the one that suggested I be reassigned, to get me away from those Birlo ass-holes. One good turn deserves another.” Stan began scanning.

“I can’t go with you,” Nash eased himself out of his jacket.

“You really want to go back to that?”

“I have to—”

The scanner beeped, and Stan frowned at the results. “No way. This thing must be broken.”

Nash looked. “Nope, those levels are about right.” He popped a couple of Rycellin tablets into his mouth and swallowed. “I don’t have any of my meds with me. I’m okay right now, but it won’t last.”

***

8. Lorsa Cluster

Edric Makon, the CEO of Makondi-Core, sat and watched the sunset. The tinting of the protective dome gave it a bluish cast, that added to the austere elegance of his city. Lorsa Cluster had been the seat of his family’s power for centuries. Don’t worry, I won’t let this touch you. You will not fall again, he surveyed the modern skyline with a paternal affection. A light flashed on the digipad in his hand, indicating that he was no longer on hold. He pressed the icon and answered the Director of KMR and D.

“Edric, my apologies for keeping you.” Talim Rand’s smooth voice carried an edge of irritation. “The last seven hours have been hell. As per the Council’s request, these incidents have been kept off all news feeds. I’ve ordered the evacuees from Elune to be held in transit until the Council makes their decision.”

“Talim, you owe no apology; your handling of this disaster has been exemplary. The Council meets in less than an hour, and I’d like your take on our situation.”

“The only fact we have is that Field Marshall Hartoum is behind it; we still don’t know the motive. Command has quietly deployed troops along the border.”

“I will require something more than that to take to the meeting.”

“Don’t worry, I have more,” Talim took a deep breath. “It’s a mess. The hydroponics domes at Sandyn, Junelle, and Parlos are all offline.”

“They’ve been breached?” Edric shuddered.

“Yes. Hard-link transmissions from the sites show that the atmospheric acidity index has risen by ten percent at every location. We know that the reactor at Parlos went critical four hours ago. Junelle’s will follow soon, then Sandyn’s. We’d redirected three of the Burn Crews from Seep management to the refinery fire at Kento; thankfully the blaze was contained before it reached the storage tanks.” Talim sighed heavily then continued. “Elune suffered damage to their dome support, but the superstructure held. We have repair teams on-site, working in conjunction with Sekk-Tech. Salvage teams are at Sandyn, doing what they can to save the site. We’re calling up reserves to attend to Junelle and Parlos, but I don’t think we’ll have anything ready in time; the window for finding surface survivors will close in four days, but the meltdown will occur sooner than that. Fortunately, the radiation will be kept out of the adjoining tunnel network; the blast doors sealed when the sensors detected the breach,” he paused to take a drink. “Fifty thousand, four hundred and twenty-one wounded, and thousands are still missing, presumed dead. We’ll set up field hospitals to address the casualties and keep the pressure off the Clusters.”

“Let me know when the memorial is planned, Carol and I will make a point to attend. Makondi-Core can be counted on to contribute to KMR and D’s efforts.” Edric rubbed his eyes trying to drive away the headache that was building.

“Sorry, Edric, Command just messaged me.”

“I await the news.” Edric disconnected and went to make himself a drink. He’d had time to finish it before Talim got back to him. “So, any idea of what prompted Hartoum to break the peace?”

“No. What’s disturbing is that his people don’t seem to know either. I’d had a few reports about ‘odd behavior’, but nothing that indicated this was a possibility. No matter, he isn’t our problem; his people will attend to him now. We have more immediate concerns... read this.”

Edric looked over the abbreviated report, blanched and stood. He poured himself another tumbler of Klyste. Yes. He felt the stress depart as the liquid warmed him. “Per these numbers rationing our food reserves won’t help.”

“There are too many mouths to feed. Lorsa and Thallen Clusters can comfortably survive on what they produce. The Military and KMR and D have joint reserves we can draw upon, but—” Talim left the rest unspoken.

Edric sat in reflective silence for a moment. “We can extend ourselves to cover Merrow and Riva Clusters. We can even assist Elune, while they bring themselves back online, but that’s not everyone, is it?” Edric edited the census file, subtracting Korlune’s Diasporan population from it. “How about this?” he pressed send and heard Talim chuckle.

“That would indeed solve the food crisis, but it would create a host of new problems. For one, a void in the workforce; I believe even Makondi-Core employs Diasporan for certain jobs.”

Edric didn’t comment.

“I suspect the Par Society would note their lack of clients and Selwyn—”

Edric cut him off with a derisive snort. “The Par Society. Please. Don’t grant that group of half-breeds and degenerates more importance than they deserve... And don’t get me started on Maro. How many generations of his family have been meddling with the Diasporan now? Eight? Ten? They’ve had ample time to find whatever it is they’re looking for in that genetic mire.” Edric paused and took another sip of his drink. His gaze strayed in the direction of his mansion. “That bastard’s supposed to be working on a cure for K’Shar Syndrome.”

“How is Carol?”

“Suffering,” Edric snapped. “Forgive me, Talim, that was uncalled for... I— Wait.” Inspiration struck. He opened the daily guild feed and went directly to the trade section. A slow smile crossed his face. “I may have found a viable solution. Thoughts?” He linked the file and waited for Talim’s response.

*

Edric entered the austere chamber adjoining his office and sat at the glass desk in the center. He prepared himself mentally for the virtual meeting, toying with the ritual, white mask he used to conceal his identity from the group. It had been in the family for centuries, but everyone there knew who they faced. He activated the system and waited for it to scan him.

Everyone will have heard by now. Regina will have received my text. This will be an easy sell. Edric reflected on the day’s events; five sites had been hit by the Ankor, and in the destruction, Korlune had lost almost half their food. We will starve unless we do this.

“Left hand, please,” the AI instructed.

He placed his hand on the scanner and waited for the genetic scan to complete.

“Lorsa Cluster, Council member identity confirmed. You are now logged in,” the electronic voice proclaimed.

Edric sat down and activated the virtual environment with a gesture over his desk. “Apologies for my tardiness, I was conferring with Talim Rand in regard to the recent violence.”

The masked figure to his left spoke. “The Council recognizes the member from Lorsa. Do you bring more news?”

“It’s confirmed. Ankor forces have destroyed four stations, Sandyn, Parlos, Kento, and Junelle. Their fifth target was Elune Cluster, but they were unsuccessful; the population was evacuated, and the dome was never compromised. We’re coordinating with KMR and D to salvage what we can from Sandyn, first—” He nodded to his right as another hologram appeared. Like the others, Edric knew the identity of this man. Mike Sekkaro, the force behind Sekk-Tech was one of his primary competitors. A shame the bombs couldn’t have been a little more efficient. “I am pleased the member from Elune is able to be present in these trying times.” Edric was grateful to the voice modulator for keeping his tone neutral.

The member from Riva spoke. “Why has Field Marshall Hartoum broken the peace?”

“The better question is what are we going to do about him now that he has?” The member from Thallen asked.

Edric smiled behind his mask. His sister, Regina Harlo, held that seat. “His own people will remove him in due course. It’s agreed that returning to open war suits none of us. What we have to concern ourselves with now is how we’re going to manage these events and handle the food shortage they’ve generated.”

“Are none of the facilities salvageable?” The member from Merrow spoke.

“The fuel refinery at Kento was targeted – there’s nothing left of that facility except for the reserve tanks. Junelle, Sandyn, and Parlos are gone. As of twenty minutes ago, Sandyn’s main dome has collapsed, and their water filtration system has been compromised—” Edric brought up the figures on his console and shared them with the other members. “Makondi-Core estimates that it will take ten years to deal with the contamination, rebuild and get production back to what it was. I should add that is with the help of Harlo-Fyre and Sekk-Tech.” Edric paused for dramatic effect. “We will starve unless we act now.”

The member from Merrow shifted in his seat. “Can we pool our resources—”

Regina Harlo cut him off. “The Cluster cities can and will, but those stations also supplied the Diaspora.”

“Surely we can extend ourselves to help them?”

“We must look to our own, first.” Regina’s modulated tone still managed to convey her conviction.

Edric brought up a collection of files and shared them. “Without the food those stations supplied, the Diasporan will cease to be able to feed themselves within the year. We need to act, now. I have conferred with Talim Rand and here is a list of the Diaspora that can no longer sustain themselves without trade,” he highlighted the text. “As you can see, only half require subsidy. From these, I narrowed the list down to the seven that no longer hold trade status with the Guild. They are the most vulnerable in this and will be the first to suffer. With these seven off-line and careful management of the remaining Diaspora resources, the others will survive this shortfall.”

“Hold on,” the member from Merrow interjected. “We’ve all seen this list before. Yes, these sites are old, but with upgrades to their hydroponic farms, they could get by. We have the means to do this. We—”

Edric silenced the debate. “Forgive me, but while your points are valid, time is a factor. What you’re proposing would take at least two years, even if we had the resources to spread between repairs and upgrades. Then there’s the time we’d have to spend educating them on how to use the new technology,” he took a breath. Gods, save me from the naive. Why couldn’t you be the man your father was? This meeting would be over already. “There is an option; we could re-purpose the bulk of the materials necessary to maintaining our more... Cultural or Educational centers? Are Riva and Merrow clusters willing to sacrifice their allotment to the Diasporan cause?” Edric held up his hand to silence the outburst before it happened. “I respectfully request that the member from Riva hold his comments until after we hear from the member from Merrow.

“Yes. We will make do with what we produce.”

The member from Elune spoke. “With respect, the member from Merrow is new to his post and may not be aware that his Cluster’s assets are all intellectual. Merrow produces no food; half its gardens are holo-tech. If support is diverted, your citizens will slowly starve just as surely as the Diasporan will.” He took a breath then activated the central display. A detailed list of Elune Cluster’s output and available resources scrolled in the projection for all of them to see. “I’ve looked at the numbers as well, and if Elune were online, we would have more options, but Sekk-Tech is unable to commit past Elune’s needs. That leaves Harlo-Fyre and Makondi-Core, to address this issue. They’re the only ones capable of initiating this kind of retrofit in the Diaspora now. They can’t be expected to do this work for the Diasporan without some form of trade. Elune still has assets and can assist with its own reconstruction, we’re not going to burden Thallen or Lorsa, but,” he paused, “if these seven Diaspora have nothing viable to offer in exchange—” He drew a deep breath. “That investment would be folly - it only serves to give the Diasporan a false sense of hope.”

Thank you for that unexpected leverage, Sekkaro. Edric buried his surprise and continued. “I move that we invoke the War Measures Act, take the seven, non-viable Diaspora offline, then release a join statement, condemning these ‘unknown terrorists’—”

The member from Merrow stood. “I still can’t believe you’re serious about using the War Measures Act. Everyone here knows those articles are— They’re barbaric; they still list the Diasporan population as property. These are people you’re talking about. You’re advocating murder. There has to be another solution. There has to be another way that doesn’t involve lies.”

Edric didn’t flinch. Instead, he indicated that the member from Merrow should take his seat. “Murder? The sad truth is that these people will starve. They’ll watch their children and their elders die first. So, what’s kinder; to euthanize now, or allow them to suffer over time? Either way, they die. “Edric turned to face the gathering. “If we act immediately we can use these attacks to our advantage; no one will blink if seven more sites are added to the terrorist’s tally.”

The member from Riva spoke. “What about the Par Society or Clan Destine? Won’t they use this to generate sympathy for their causes? They’re rather active in my Cluster, or have your forgotten?”

Edric grinned behind his mask. “You’ve forgotten that Korlo died at those stations as well. The Par Society can’t claim special privilege if we act swiftly. As far as Clan Destine goes, let them step forward. Most feel that they’re a blight on the landscape. It wouldn’t take much to brand them as the terrorists responsible.”

Regina stood and addressed the group. “This is a hard choice, but think of your people. We don’t want another war; we can’t afford it, and our people would cry for blood if they knew who was at the root of these attacks. The member from Lorsa is correct. If we don’t act now, it will end badly and not just for the Diasporan. If we don’t take steps to protect our citizens, we too will be facing the same nightmare in six months. Would you rather hungry mobs find their way to your doorstep, steal your food and savage your families? I say we deal with the matter decisively.” She turned to the member from Merrow Cluster. “Your city sits on the fringes of the Seep. Surely your troubles with Clan Evora and the M’Kang have shown you what a feral population is capable of? Would you wish that on all of us?”

Edric wasn’t sure if the member from Merrow bowed his head in sorrow or defeat, but it didn’t matter. He was now silent.

“I propose that we enact the Dark Diaspora provision as laid out in the War Measures Act: article seven, paragraph three, to be carried out immediately. All in favor?” Edric gazed around the virtual environment. “Three in favor, one against,” he nodded to the member from Merrow as a sign of respect. “And one chooses to abstain,” Edric’s gaze lingered on Mike Sekkaro. Coward. “We have the support of the Military and KMR and D, passed.” He checked the time. “Are there any other matters to introduce?” Edric looked at each member in turn. Silence filled the space.

“If there’s nothing else, I declare that this emergency Council session concluded.” Edric stood up with the others, and they each bowed before they logged out. He pulled his digipad out of his pocket and sent a text message. “Go 7.”

9. Diaspora 12 - Astel

“That smells wonderful,” Pari strolled into the kitchen, fresh from her shower. She paused by the cook-top and lifted the lid. “May I?” She picked up a spoon.

Roz smiled as she chopped the final bits of the Kuvalo for the salad. “Of course.”

“Mmmm. This is beyond anything I could make,” she savored the taste as she put the spoon down. “I have no talent in the kitchen.”

“It’s true, she doesn’t.” Suna smiled fondly at her daughter-in-law.

The door opened, and two small children burst into the coat-room followed by their mother.

“Shoes off, coats off. Delayne, you can help Sam clean up for dinner.” Diani sniffed the air and smiled. “Something smells good.”

A grubby little boy ran into the kitchen and hugged everyone’s leg on his way through.

“Hello Sam,” Roz ruffled the little redhead’s hair affectionately.

“Treat fo’ me?” He held out both hands and smiled.

“C’mon, Sammy,” Delayne turned him around and led him down the hall. “Only clean boys an’ girls get treats.”

“Can I help, Amma?”

“No, Roz says it’s done.”

Diani lifted the lid and poked at the contents of the pot with the long spoon. “What is it?”

“Tasty,” Pari commented from the table. She motioned for her daughter to join her, frowning as Diani gave Roz a wide berth. “How was work?”

“Busy. M’kang hit the convoy from Kairoe; five skiffs were damaged, so we’re down to fourteen.”

“Was anyone hurt?” Suna asked.

“Two pilots were shot, but they’re going to recover.”

“What was taken?” Pari prepared herself for bad news.

“Fuel rods, Tellium wire, various essential parts ...” Diani sighed. “Kairoe had found a new set of filters for our water recyclers – they’re gone.”

Pari shook her head. “It’ll all be on the black market inside a week. I’ll inform the Canton; they can send a team to Lorsa to bid on it.”

“M’kang?” Roz asked as she dished up their dinner. “That’s awful. Can’t you get military—”

Diani snorted. “We’ve asked for assistance from the military - extra patrols, but, they don’t care. The M’Kang stick to the spur and branch lines, thus pose no threat to the Clusters.”

“Moooooommmmm, Delly got soap in ma eye,” Sam came streaking into the kitchen, covered in suds and launched himself at Diani.

Delayne stormed in after him. “Sammy, come back, I’m not done with you.” She put her hands on her hips and became a miniature, black-haired version of her mother.

“Noooooooooo.”

“It’s okay, sweetie, I’ll take over from here. Good job,” Diani kissed her daughter on the head, then picked up her son. “C’mon Sam, let’s get you fixed up. I have something that’ll take the sting away.” She walked down the hall, and everyone heard the door to the bathroom close.

“I got clean, cleanin’ Sammy,” Delayne held up her hands. “Can I set th’ table, Amma?”

“Yes, sweetie.”

By the time Diani and Sam returned, everything was ready. Delayne helped her little brother onto his seat then climbed onto hers.

“D’hali Kai aku, susomi ahi,” Suna said a prayer before she dished up for each of them.

“Auntie Roz makes goo’ foo’,” Delayne said while she chewed.

Sam nodded enthusiastically.

Pari’s digipad beeped, and she paused, mid-mouthful, to check it. A broad smile spread across her face as she read the text. “Good news; they’ve isolated the leak. I’m afraid I’m going to have to finish this later,” she stood and walked to the door. “I’m not sure when I’ll be back, so don’t hold breakfast.”

“Do you need any help, Mom?”

“Always— Wait, are you up-to-date on your shots?”

“No, but you can give me a dose of Kantoryl when we get there. That’ll hold until I can get to a clinic,” Diani collected her coat and work belt. “Be good for Amma, you two,” she bent down and kissed each child on the head.

“An’ fo’ Auntie Roz,” Sam declared, with a gap-toothed smile.

Delayne nodded.

Something unspoken passed between Diani and Roz, and the tension fell away.

“Yes, for Auntie Roz too.”

*

Roz stared at the ceiling, unable to sleep. The bed felt cold and empty. She abandoned it and wandered out into the kitchen in search of distraction from her loneliness.

“I didn’t wake you, did I?” Suna set a covered bowl on the counter.

“No. Can I help you with that?”

“It just needs to rise. Sit, I’ll get us some tea while you find something on the feed for us to watch.”

Roz smiled, turned the screen on, and started going through the channels. She stopped when she realized they were all displaying the same feed. “Amma— Come here, quickly.”

The two women stared at the screen.

“… At zero-three hundred, domestic terrorists struck a devastating blow against Korlune. Five sites, one military, three KMR and D, and one Cluster City have been compromised in this coordinated attack. The Council has declared a state of emergency. Citizens are warned to remain where they are… All travel is suspended… Elune Cluster was successfully evacuated, and crews are on-site, working to repair the sections of the dome that were breached. Citizens are being hosted by Thallen and Merrow Clusters until they can return home. To locate displaced family or loved ones, consult the central hub in Thallen... The Director of KMR and D, Talim Rand, has issued a statement, acknowledging that Sandyn, Junelle, and Parlos stations, as well as Kento Outpost, were among those that were targeted. Reports indicate that the refinery at Kento outpost was destroyed and several Diasporan burn crews have been redirected to assist in putting out the fires... There is no information as to the extent of the damage or the number of casualties at the stations, but it has been confirmed that in each case, the primary site of the blast was the hydroponics dome... Please keep this feed open, as we will update as more information becomes available... Again, for those who are joining us now, the Council has now declared a state of emergency. All Civilian transport is offline. All citizens currently in transit will be conducted to the closest shelter for the duration. The Diasporan population is restricted to their designated zones until further notice. You are asked to keep your ID with you at all times, as well as any work and transit papers …”

Roz dragged the small image of Junelle station to the center of the screen with her fingertip and expanded it. “This happens, and they give us a stock image? They have cameras everywhere, why won’t they show us what’s going on?” The frustration in her voice did little to mask her anguish.

Suna put her hand on the young woman’s shoulder and drew her into a hug. “Don’t worry. He’s not dead, we’d feel it.”

Roz let herself be comforted for a moment, returning the hug, then she pulled away. “We should let Pari and Diani know,” she retrieved her purse and dug for her digipad, then selected Pari’s number. “It’s gone straight to messages— Hello, Pari, it’s Roz. Something horrible has happened; there’s been more attacks, and one of the sites was Junelle. If you have access to a news feed, there—” She held the digipad away from her and pressed the recall button. This time, there was only silence. “Odd, the signal just dropped off.”

Suna frowned sharply. “No signal?” She checked the entertainment feed and encountered static. Suna returned to the news and watched it repeat. She reset the household router and waited. No lights appeared. “We’ve been locked out of the network.”

“What does that mean? Is it because of the attacks?” Roz watched as Suna crossed to the door and removed the truck keys from their spot on the hanger.

“Roz, I believe we are in danger. Dress. Gather the children and their blankets, I will gather food.”

Roz hid her fear behind a smile and did as she was told.

*

“Mom, someone messaged you.” Diani’s voice crackled over the headset.

Pari pressed the button on her earpiece and activated her microphone. “Check it when you get a chance.” She swung her harness over the secondary cooling tank and completed the scan for hairline fractures in its hull.

Twenty minutes later, Diani slid out from under the elevated control panel, wiped her forehead dry, then tied on another headband. She tapped her earpiece. “It’s done; I’m taking a break.” She picked up the digipad and pressed the icon for messages. Nothing came up. She pressed it a second time and then pulled hers out of the front pocket of her overalls. There was no signal.

Diani pressed the earpiece. “Mom, I’m not getting the network on either digipad.”

“Does the display show who called?”

“Home.”

Pari pushed the return button on her harness control and undid the straps as it brought her back to the ground. She re-entered the control room and tapped her ID on the pad next to the main console. She accessed an outside line and typed in their home number. “Nothing. Diani, go outside and see if you can pick up anything there. I’ll meet you in the lobby— Here, take this. If the grid goes down, you’ll need it to get back in,” she tossed Diani her ID card.

Time seemed to crawl as she rode the elevator up to the ground floor and Diani jogged through the lobby to make up for it. The doors opened automatically, and she walked out into the night. She paced back and forth along the concourse willing the device to work. Nothing. Diani squinted into the gloom as a pair of headlights lit up her location on the stairs then she recognized the red and white truck. She ran to meet it. “What’s wrong? Are you alright? The kids, are they—”

Suna’s tense smile greeted her. “They’re asleep in the back. The network went down, and I thought it would be best if we were all together.”

Diani looked into the back of the truck to find Roz sitting between them, humming softly to keep them asleep. She bestowed a grateful smile on her then turned back to Suna. “Are all of the feeds down, Amma?”

“Yes. Terrorists hit several locations, Junelle included. This ‘silence’ may be a prelude to attack. I think we should go to the shelter.”

An industrial van pulled in behind them, and four men in military fatigues got out. “Move this thing,” one of them ordered in slang as he strode toward the truck.

“Pardon me?” Diani turned to face him. She gave his uniform a quick once-over looking for any sign of name or rank.

“We were called in to fix an issue with the reactor, miss. Besides, this is Essential Services parking only,” he pointed at the sign.

Suna leaned forward, using her arm to strategically block his view of the ES sticker. She squinted at what he was pointing at. “Forgive me, I didn’t see the notice.”

“It’s late, go home.” He smiled in a perfunctory way before he turned and rejoined his team.

Suna released the break and allowed the vehicle to glide slowly ahead. She stopped when they were six meters into the gloom.

Diani followed, leaning on the truck when it stopped. She watched the team in the side mirror. She was silent while they unloaded several metal crates onto a small pallet-jack.

“We fixed the real issue four hours ago, and Mom let the team go home early as a reward. No one was called,” Diani whispered, her eyes not leaving the men.

“Military Techs still wear tool belts,” Suna added.

“I have to warn Mom,” Diani watched them access a side door and slide the pallet-jack inside. “Shit, they got in.”

“Go. Find her. Drag her out by her hair if you must. We’ll wait here for you. Kai, protect you.”

“Wait, Diani. Here, take this. You might need it,” Roz reached into her purse and handed over a small, metal canister. “If they get too close, spray them in the eyes and run.”

Diani examined it for an instant before she tucked it in her pocket. “Thanks.” She sprinted back up the stairs.

*

Pari had her hand poised above the palm scanner when the door at the far end of the hall swung open. Four men in uniform and a pallet-jack laden with crates entered the hallway and came toward her. Her gaze flicked to the digital display board as they passed under it and watched it not register their presence. She tapped the pad with her palm, locked the door, then used her personal code to deactivate the panel on the other side.

The first man frowned when his card didn’t automatically open the door. He looked up at Pari, his scowl grew when he noted the height difference.

“Can I help you, gentlemen?”

“We have Intel that saboteurs have tampered with your reactor. We’ve been ordered to deal with it.”

“By whom?” Pari studied the group. Military, no insignia.

“The local Canton and the Master-Mech of this installation. Ma’am, time is of the essence, open the door.”

Pari raised an eyebrow. “The Master-Mech didn’t mention any of this to me, and he generally tells me everything,” her fingers drifted toward the alarm button.

“An oversight on his part, I’m sure. Open the door and let us get on with our jobs.” The man closest to the door banged it with his fist for emphasis.

“What’s in the crates?” Pari looked over their heads at the metal containers. No markings. She pressed the red button.

“The bitch just triggered the silent alarm,” the fellow closest to the pallet-jack looked up from the tablet he was holding.

“Shut it down and get this door open.”

The tallest man in their group grinned as he approached the door. “Why don’t you give me something hard to do, Sarge?” He pulled a slim case out of his pocket and opened it.

Pari watched as he stuck a card in the ID reader and hooked up a thin cable to it. The keypad next to her beeped as the exterior panel reactivated, and he began to pick the lock. She reached into her tool belt, pulled out a screwdriver and ducked under the panel. The door frame went dark when she pulled the primary fuse. Pari smiled when she heard swearing.

“Good luck hacking—” She stood up and found herself staring down the barrel of a gun. “Shit,” she ducked.

The shot cracked the metallic glass. A cloud of white material vented out into the hall. The men stepped back, coughing, and Pari used the diversion to run. She heard another shot and the sound of the door shattering.

“Scott, deal with her then meet us in the control room,” their leader directed.

Pari crawled into the maintenance shaft that ran up the main cooling tower and began climbing the ladder. Faster. Faster, Pari, she willed her limbs to move more efficiently. The sound of a gunshot rang out as light from the muzzle flash was reflected in the metal supports above her. Ten seconds later, Pari dragged herself out on the next landing. She scrambled into the connecting maintenance office and powered on the control console. She accessed the workstation in her office and typed in her ID.

“Good Evening, Pari. Command?” the AI response appeared on the screen.

“Initiate reactor maintenance sequence A-zero-four-four-two; shutdown and store core until further notice.”

“Authorization Master-Mech Pari Korpes accepted. Reactor maintenance protocols initiated. Storing rods... Reactor offline in thirty minutes.”

She looked back at the service hatch. He’ll be here in a minute. Warn people. A test. Pari brought up the stress test index and typed in her clearance code. Her eyes scanned the list of options. Earthquake, fires in building, digi-link down. She stopped scrolling. Meltdown in progress... Perfect. She selected it and moved over to the drop-down menu. Full simulation. “Activate,” Pari pressed her hand into the palm scanner, and the light went green.

The AI spoke over the station-wide address system. “Code yellow, test. Warning: Meltdown in progress. Population and emergency services response test initiated, engaging safety systems in five... four... three... two... one.” All the digi-link systems in the building went offline, and the lights went out. Seconds later the red lights of the hard-link system illumined the facility.

Yes. Pari smiled.

“Stop,” Scott yelled as he crawled out of the access hatch.

“Too late,” she grinned.

He pulled the trigger twice, and Pari collapsed.

*

The grounds were suddenly awash with red light, and an eerie siren began to wail.

Suna rolled up the window to muffle the noise, but too late; Delayne stirred, rubbing an eye as she looked up.

“Go back to sleep, sweetie. Your mom will be here soon,” Roz stroked her hair, and the little girl snuggled in. Roz stared out at the cooling tower looking for any sign of the impending disaster.

“Don’t worry, if it’s real, emergency services will be here soon,” Suna whispered. “Everything will be alright.”

*

The distinctive crack of gunfire made Diani freeze and listen. The second shot gave her a rough direction to go. She made her way to the maintenance office on the main floor, and quietly opened the door. Even in the dim, reddish glow, Diani recognized the woman on the ground next to the desk.

“Mom!” She ran to where she lay and knelt beside her to check for a pulse.

Click. Click.

Diani looked up to find a man standing between her and the exit, his gun pointing at her head.

He frowned, ejected the clip, and reached into his pocket for a new one.

Diani reached into her pocket, pulled out Roz’s present, and pressed the button. A great gout of silver smoke erupted from the end.

Scott’s screams were deafening as he collapsed to the ground, clawing at his eyes. Diani kept the spray focused on his face while she covered her nose and mouth with her free hand; the fumes were making her eyes burn. He rolled into a crouch and launched himself at her, pinning her against Pari. His fingers wrapped around her throat.

Diani clawed at his hands, trying to pull them away; she kicked and scratched, but nothing made him flinch.

His grip tightened.

Diani stared up into his face; his eyes were swollen shut and yellow sludge leaked from between his lashes. The pressure in her head built, sparks appeared in her peripheral field of vision, and the room began to fade.

There was a noise; a sickening, hollow crunch and his grip loosened.

She shoved him with all her strength, and he rolled off to the side. A dark handled screwdriver protruded from his left temple.

Pari coughed. “Move.”

Diani scrambled to the side. “Gods. Mom?” Tears of relief ran down her cheeks. “I thought you were dead,” she slipped in the blood that was pooling on the floor under her as she helped Pari sit up again.

“Someone... will come to check on this ass-hole. Grab a med-kit— Over there,” Pari pointed at the lockers next to the service hatch. She rolled onto her hands and knees and crawled the short distance to the corpse. She tore his ear piece off and handed it to Diani before she continued her search. “Listen in - we need to know what they’re doing,” Pari found five extra clips, so she reloaded Scott’s gun and tucked it into her tool belt.

A minute later, mother and daughter were making their way toward the main entrance.

Diani moved to support more of her mother’s weight. “Amma’s outside with the truck.”

Pari remained silent, her left hand pressed tightly against her abdomen.

Diani used her mother’s card to open the door, and they stepped out into the night.

“Where the hell is everyone? The alarm sounded almost twenty minutes ago,” Pari scowled out into the vacant street in front of the building. “The teams should be—”

An explosion in the distance lit up the skyline.

Diani led her mother down the steps, stopping abruptly at the bottom. Her hand cupped the earpiece. “Mom, they just found his body.”

“Run,” Pari picked up her pace.

Suna backed the truck up to meet them. “There have been at least three explosions in the city since the alarm was triggered. What’s going on? Are they terrorists?” She slid over to make room for Pari to drive then noticed the blood.

“Diani can drive. I’ll get in the back—”

The sound of gunfire and shattering glass caught their attention.

“Go,” Pari flung herself into the box of the truck, grabbed the cargo webbing, and lay flat. “Drive!”

Diani released the brake and stomped on the accelerator. The truck rocketed down the road, toward the main gate.

“It’s closed,” Suna pointed at it.

Diani drove through it; the denser body of the truck bent the metal lattice and pulled it from its hinges. The gate clattered to the ground behind them, deformed and useless. The truck sped on.

Roz pulled the med-kit into the backseat unnoticed.

Diani’s free hand cupped the earpiece. “Oh crap, they just broadcast an alert,” she looked up in time to see a vehicle block the intersection.

The truck veered sharply to the left as Diani cranked on the steering wheel. “Hold on,” she smashed through the guardrail, and they launched out into the air, adjusting the thrust as they coasted the two meters to the street below. The landing was still rough.

“I hope Mom’s still with us,” Diani turned the headlights off as they sped through Astel’s industrial district.

Sam started to cry.

“Moooom,” Delayne screamed from the back seat.

“Not now,” Diani swerved to use the bridge for cover. Workers were fleeing the buildings, clogging the narrow alleyways between structures. None had spilled out onto the road. “Just stay out of our way,” Diani whispered to herself.

Explosions lit the skyline to their right.

“That was somewhere near water treatment, wasn’t it?” Suna peered out the passenger window and another fireball arced up inside the Western edge of the dome.

“That was the water treatment plant,” Diani changed course again, skipping the truck up and over the concrete barricade onto maintenance road that ran under the elevated track.

“Mooooom,” Delayne wailed.

“Not now!” Diani cupped a hand over her ear and listened. “Finally, some good news; the police have taken out two groups and firemen have another batch trapped in the old mine works,” she looked over as another fireball soared up over the city. The flames licked the top portion of the dome. “That was near the hospital.” A second gout of flames curled up into the gathering smoke. “No—” she bit her lip.

“Daddy!” Delayne pressed her face up to the passenger window, tears streaming down her face.

“He’s not there, sweetie, he’s in Kairoe, remember? He’s safe,”

Suna stared out at the burning city. “Kairoe, by skiff - how long would it take?”

“Three hours at top speed— Amma, you’re brilliant.” Diani turned off the road and crossed a large vacant lot, destroying another fence as she went.

“Mom?” Sam sniffled as he peered over the seat.

“Roz, could you please secure him?”

“She did, Mommy. Sammy undid his belt hisself when Auntie Roz left.”

“Left?” Diani checked the rear-view mirror and saw the cab window was open. There was no sign of Roz. She tried not to think the worst as she swung the wheel over. The single-lane road that led off to the North was heavily pitted with wear, so she adjusted the thrust to give the truck more clearance.

Suna undid her seatbelt and crawled into the back.

Diani’s hand flew to the earpiece. “No. They’re heading for dome maintenance. If they cause a breach all of the tunnels will seal.”

“That makes no sense. If they do that, they cut off their escape as well as ours,” Suna settled the children into their seats then checked the back of the truck. “Oh, thank Kai. Roz is with Pari.”

Diani whispered a prayer of thanks and drove up the maintenance ramp into the skiff shed. She stopped and leaned out the window allowing the card reader to log her in.

The bay doors opened revealing a large Mech-Bay and transport platform. Diani drove the truck inside and breathed a sigh of relief as the doors closed behind them. She looked back over her shoulder. “I’ve not heard anyone report from this section, but that doesn’t mean they don’t have someone watching. Hurry. Take the kids to the end of the platform and get on skiff zero-eight. I’ll help Roz move Mom.”

Suna nodded and gathered up their supplies as the kids climbed out of the truck.

“Mom?” Diani was almost afraid to look.

“Who taught you to drive?” Pari sat up, pain etched in her features. Her left hand still held pressure on her abdomen, but the wound had been packed.

“You did.”

“Good job, me.”

“I need to finish this, Pari,” Roz held up the tape.

Pari moved her hand, and Roz quickly secured the padding with gauze and tape. “This will hold for a little while—” Roz took in their surroundings. “Diani, I’m not a real Med-Tech; my skills are basic at best. Your mother needs to get to a hospital.”

“There’s one in Kairoe. Will she—”

“Please don’t talk about me like I’m not here,” Pari struggled to slide to the tailgate.

Roz opened it for her. “I wish the med-kit had a scanner.”

Pari smiled down at her. “I’ll be fine.”

Diani paused to listen to the broadcast then looked up. “They’ve just secured dome maintenance. They’ve also taken the air recycling plant. Mom, have you ever heard of something called Phasyx?”

“No. Help me up,” Pari leaned on the two young women as they carried her to the skiff.

Diani wiped away her tears with the back of her sleeve. “I feel like I’m running away.” She shut the outer hatch and locked it.

“The battle is lost. We can’t rebuild if we’re dead,” Pari stretched out on the floor of the skiff. “I’m certain we’re not the only ones to have escaped.”

Roz tucked a pillow under Pari’s head then covered her with a blanket. She then sat next to her patient, clutching Nash’s ID tags for comfort.

Suna had the children bundled close to her. They clung to her, wide-eyed with fright.

Even with the thick walls of the skiff and the Mech-Bay surrounding them, tremors caused by the explosions could be felt. One sent sections of the ceiling clattering to the floor next to the truck.

Sam began to cry, again.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. We’ll be okay. We’re going to go find Daddy.” Diani sat in the pilot’s chair and initiated the pre-launch sequence.

“Don’t forget to take the tracker offline,” Pari said, coughing as she finished.

Diani ran the final check while disconnecting the skiff’s beacon from the battery. Three minutes later they were on their way.

***

10. Diaspora 14 - Kairoe

“Miss Kuld? Doctor Fel will see you now.” The receptionist pointed at the door behind her.

“Thank you.” Roz stood and looked down at herself. Her blue jacket had dark oil stains on it, and bruises were beginning to bloom in places she couldn’t conceal. I’m a mess. She made her way across the waiting room, ignoring the stares she drew from the other patients. She opened the door, and Vincent hurriedly ushered her into his office.

He steered her toward the exam table. “They didn’t tell me you were injured. You shouldn’t have been kept waiting, Miss Kuld.”

Roz stopped him. “I’m alright. Are you Doctor Vincent Fel?”

“I am. Have we met?” His smile was warm.

“No, but we would have; I’m Nash’s fiancée, Rozwyn. There’s been an incident in Astel... terrorists, I think. Maybe the same group that struck at Junelle—” Hot tears poured down her face. “Please, I need you to come with me—”

“What? I wasn’t contacted.” Vincent pulled his digipad out of his pocket and typed in a short sequence of numbers. It didn’t go through. He looked up from the device, frowning, then tried another number. Nothing.

“Diani, your children, Amma, and Pari are all here. We managed to escape, but Pari feels the danger will follow us. I was sent to get you because no one here knows me.”

“Where’s Nash?” He finally managed to guide Roz to the exam table and encouraged her to sit.

“He was called back to Junelle— He was there when—” She couldn’t continue. The stress of the last day had finally caught up with her.

Vincent put a comforting hand on her shoulder as she cried, discretely scanning her at the same time. “Where are you from, Rozwyn?”

“Ribal.” She looked up at the seeming non-sequitur question.

Vincent nodded to himself, watching the screen on his digipad. “Is your father Doctor Ben Kuld?”

“Yes. Why?”

“What does he do?”

“He runs a private practice in Lesoro District when he isn’t lecturing—Why is this important? I’ve been here too long already,” Roz’s voice crackled with frustration.

“I’m sorry, I had to confirm your story. It looks like there’s no warrant out on you and you’re not on the list of M’Kang abductees.”

“Pardon?”

“They’ve taken to using the Diasporan they abduct as lures. There was an incident here a couple of months ago, and the doctor that I’m filling in for was taken. When you came in, the admitting nurse flagged you as a potential risk. There aren’t any screening protocols in place yet, so we’re cautious. Let me treat you—”

She stood. “No, there’s no time. Pari was shot during our escape; I packed the wound, did what I could, but I’m not a Med-Tech. My injuries can wait.”

Vincent crossed back to his desk and pulled a med-kit from the bottom drawer. “Where was she shot?”

“Lower abdomen. The bullets are still in her. I scanned for signs of internal bleeding and infection. She was stable when I left. We’re booked into a bed-rest across from the central train station; Diani said you’d know which one. I only remember that it has a green awning.” Roz crossed to the other side of his desk and sat down. She rubbed the lump that was forming over her right eye.

Vincent shook his head. “I don’t like the look of that bruise.” He set the bag down and re-scanned the area. “You have a concussion.”

“I’ll put myself in line behind Pari. Everyone will be worried; I’ve been here for hours.”

Vincent let her sit as he chose items from the glass cabinet near the door. “There. Ready?”

Roz leaned on the arm of the chair and made herself stand. She took a hesitant step, then smiled. “I’ll make it.”

Vincent escorted Roz out pausing at the receptionist’s desk. “Her story checks out; I’ll be out for the rest of the afternoon. Please forward any personal calls.”

“Certainly, Doctor Fel.”

Vincent hailed a cab when they reached the street. “The corner of Kester and Nali, please.”

The cabby raised an eyebrow when Roz came into view. “Certainly, sir. Looks like you’ve had a rough day.”

Roz smiled at him then nodded.

Thankfully the trip wasn’t a long one. All the cabby wanted to discuss was the latest news feeds about the attacks. “Those terrorists weren’t satisfied with Korlo targets, they’ve even hit Diaspora.”

“I’d only heard about the research stations and Elune Cluster. Which Diaspora were hit?” Vincent asked, frowning.

“There were three that I last heard; one along the border and two up North. Sarune, and... honestly, I don’t remember. It’s on the news-feed” His eyes looked back at them in the mirror for a moment. “Chilling to think that there may be a cell here in Kairoe waiting on a signal.”

Roz shivered and said nothing.

“What about the research stations they targeted? Any word on damage or survivors?” Vincent put a comforting arm around Roz as he asked.

“No, the Military have the sites locked down, but they’re being damn quiet about what’s going on; that’s never good news. Ah, here we are.”

Vincent leaned forward, tipping the driver then helped Roz out of the car. “Thank you. Have a good day.” He waved and watched as the cab turned the corner, then led Roz across the street. “Sorry to make you walk. I promise it’s only a couple of blocks.”

“Better safe than sorry,” Roz replied absently, the cabby’s words still echoing in her head. “Do you think Nash survived?” It was barely more than a whisper.

Vincent took Roz’s hand and squeezed it gently. “Yes, I do. He’s smart; if anyone could find a way to do it, he could. Trust me.”

*

“Pari, you’re a great woman, and I love you, but I swear you are the world’s biggest pain-in-the-ass as a patient—”

Everyone went silent as Vincent’s digipad rang. He answered it and turned on the speaker.

“Doctor Fel. There’s been an incident in Astel. Reports are sketchy right now. It looks like the terrorists are responsible, and there was a dome breach. The military says they have it handled.”

His frown grew into a dark scowl. “I’m sorry, ma’am? We’re not assisting? Surely they’ll need our help with the survivors?”

“We— We’ve been told that there aren’t any. I’m so sorry, Vincent. I know you’re from there. Is there anything we can do?”

“Thank you. I’ll need to take some personal time... Can you call me if you hear anything else?”

“Certainly. Take as much time as you need.”

“Thank you, Doctor Callan... I’ll call in, tomorrow.” Vincent disconnected and shut his digipad off. “That was the Chief of Staff, it’s official. So far, no survivors.”

“Have you heard of something, or someone called Phasyx?” Pari propped herself up and grimaced in pain.

“No. Don’t make me sedate you. Lie down,” Vincent muttered under his breath. He firmly assisted her in lying back. “You’re not indestructible, you’ve just been lucky. If the bullets had been any higher, you wouldn’t have survived the trip. Tyran ancestry aside, you’re going to need down time,” he paused to look at the rest of his family. “You all are.”

“We can’t stay in Kairoe; once they check the cameras in the tunnel, they’ll know we escaped.” Pari exhaled sharply as Vincent gave her an injection.

“You’re certain they weren’t terrorists?”

“Once the network was down, they used Military channels for communication. They spoke Korlo constantly—That seems like a bit of a tell,” Diani commented as she checked on Sam and Delayne. She pulled the blanket back up to tuck them in, and they didn’t stir. “Their vehicles and equipment weren’t marked, but Makondi-Core designs are distinctive.” She held up the earpiece for him to see. “We took this from the one that shot Mom.”

Vincent glanced up. “Well, that seems to back the rumors of Corporate-funded genocide.”

The room fell silent, as everyone reflected on what that meant.

He turned back to Pari and tested to see if the local anesthetic he’d given her had taken effect. “Can you feel this?”

She shook her head.

Vincent extracted the first bullet and placed it on a piece of gauze. “Rozwyn, could you hand me that vial of Haemastim, please.” He removed the second one.

She passed it to him along with the applicator. “Will that be enough for both wounds?” She removed the gauze with the two bullets on it.

“Yes, thanks.” A small smile turned the corners of his mouth up. “You’re good at this.”

“I helped Dad with the basics when I was home.” Roz gently folded the gauze and wrapped it with paper tape, then placed it in his med-kit. She looked down. “When he hears about Astel—” She couldn’t finish.

“Use my digipad. Call him,” Vincent gestured at his coat. “Now the news is out, I can always claim I made the call.”

Roz flashed him a grateful smile, took the device, and walked to the far corner of the room before she entered the number. “Dad?”

Diani retreated to give her some privacy, claiming the seat next to Vincent. She slumped against him.

He looped his arm around her shoulders and drew her into an affectionate hug. His lips touched her temple.

Pari relaxed and took advantage of the sedative she’d been given.

Everyone heard the door open and breathed a collective sigh of relief as Suna let herself in.

“I’m glad you’re back. I was getting worried,” Pari shut her eyes again.

“No one pays attention to old women. I see Roz’s mission was a success as well. Hello, Vincent.”

He stood and hugged her before he relieved her of her bags. “It’s official now; Astel is offline. There was a dome breach.”

“I know. They made a public announcement while I was at the market. Seven Diaspora have been affected in this madness. They didn’t release any information on how many survived.” Suna started unpacking her purchases. “I couldn’t find out anything more about Junelle, either—” She paused to wipe a tear away.

“I’ve asked to be kept informed on new developments. I’ll ask next time they call.”

Roz looked over her shoulder. “Vincent, my Father would like to speak with you for a moment.” She handed the digipad back.

“Hello, Doctor Kuld.” He sat down.

“Hello, and please call me Ben. I wish this conversation were under better circumstances.”

“As do I, sir.”

“I’ll keep this brief. Roz mentioned that she and the rest of your family saw some of the men involved in the attack? I agree with Pari’s assessment; you need to get everyone as far from there as possible. Can you apply for a transfer to a clinic in Merrow Cluster? I have contacts there and can help financially once you arrive.”

“I have neither the seniority, nor talent to qualify for that kind of transfer, but I could get myself assigned to a Burn Crew. They’re based out of Merrow, and they’re always short of doctors. Actually,” he looked over at Pari and Diani. “Working Burn Crew for a short time may serve to hide more of us— Sorry, just thinking out loud.”

“Be advised that the Council has shutdown all civilian transport South of Thallen; they’re even holding the Korlo citizens who fled Elune. Roz said there are seven of you; tickets without work visas will be expensive. Do you have any savings you can use?”

Vincent frowned. “No, I sent the bulk of my pay home as currency.”

“Damn. Transferring a large sum will draw attention—”

“There are physical elements that make this awkward as well. Pari was wounded in the escape, and I’d prefer not to move her for a few days. Also, my kids are both under six.”

Diani brought him a coffee. He took a quick sip and waited for Ben to comment.

“I see... Can I reach you at this number later tonight?”

Vincent took another sip. “Yes. We’ll use the time to see what we can come up with on this end.”

“Give my girl a hug for me and try not to worry. We’ll sort this out.” Ben disconnected.

*

Suna laid out a cold meal on the low table next to Pari, and the family dined in relative silence. Afterward, Delayne took Sam to the far corner of the room, where they played quietly with the toys Roz had packed.

“Time to tally up how much we have,” Pari squirmed on the couch and fished her wallet out of her hip pocket.

The adults emptied their pockets and bags in turn and deposited all their funds in the center of the table. By the end, it formed a meager pile of coins, bills, and Roz’s ID card.

“Well, this doesn’t inspire hope. It’s half of what we need for a single, non-visa ticket to Merrow,” Pari grumbled. She removed her wedding ring and placed it on the pile. “There’s the other half. We now have one seat.”

Suna added her ring to the pile. “It’s tellium. That will secure another one.”

“I can sell my tools,” Diani offered. “That will cover Sam and Delly.”

“I’ll ask for an advance when I apply for the transfer,” Vincent added.

“We’ll still be short.” Roz stared at their accumulated wealth for a moment then slid the rings back to their owners. “Keep your tools, Diani, you and Pari will be able to get work with them. The sensible thing is to sell my coat. If we use some of our funds to have it cleaned, we can get close to full price for it. That, coupled with Vincent’s advance, and whatever I have in my account should be enough for everyone’s fare. It’s worth the risk.” Her hand went to grip the tags she wore under her shirt, and she remembered. “Wait!” She dug through her purse and held it up when she found it. “I have Nash’s card, too. I’m not sure how much is in his account, though. I can check when I go withdraw from mine.”

Diani stood. “I’ll go with you.”

Vincent snatched Nash’s card away from Roz. “Neither of you is going, there may be people looking for you now. What’s the PIN?”

“Nine-Four-Two-Y-Seven-Seven.” Roz handed Vincent her card as well. “Zero-Zero-Zero-A-Zero-Zero.”

“Really?”

“Really.” A small smile turned the corners of her mouth up. “I’ve had the card since I was seven.”

He rose from the chair and slid his jacket on. “I’ll be back in as soon as I can. Here,” he removed the digipad from his pocket. “Just in case Ben calls.” Vincent pointed at the blue coat hanging near the door. “There’s a cleaner a few blocks from here, I’ll drop it off on my way.” His expression softened in sympathy as she gazed at the garment.

Roz nodded, resisting the urge to go and touch it one last time. “Thank you.”

*

Vincent checked the balance again and forced himself to breathe. Did you save every paycheck? He resisted the urge to take it all, withdrawing only what they needed in trade currency. That’ll cover the trip and hopefully some fake IDs. He folded the stack of bills in half and buried them deep in the inside pocket of his jacket. I hope I don’t get mugged.

A flash of light above him drew his attention. A seasonal storm raged overhead, but within the dome, you couldn’t hear it. Astel will be getting the brunt of this as if they need more to deal with. He turned his collar up against the imagined wind, even though he’d never been exposed topside. I hope others made it to safety.

Vincent jogged across the street then joined the masses of people who were getting off work. He cut away from the crowd a block later and darted down a narrow alley. I wonder if Ben has called— He turned the corner and stumbled into a guard. A temporary checkpoint had been established in the time it had taken him to visit the banking hub.

“Hold on, sir. ID, please,” the man’s voice crackled through his mask.

Vincent produced his paperwork without comment and handed it over.

“Name?”

“Vincent Fel.”

Another guard joined the first, and the pair scrutinized the ID together. “You’re a doctor?” The second one asked.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Kairoe’s Canton has activated the militia, and we’re checking everyone found near essential services. This says you’re from Astel?”

“I was. I’ve been working here for the last two months.”

“You have our condolences, sir.”

Vincent nodded solemnly. “Thank you, I appreciate your—”

The digipad in the guard’s pocket beeped. “Excuse me—” he read the text. “Sir, we’ve got a bit of a situation. Would you mind helping out, just until we can get a Med-Tech team in position?”

“Certainly,” Vincent said as he reclaimed his ID.

The second guard took over the post while the first led Vincent back to the vehicle. “It’s not far.”

“What’s happened?”

“A tunnel runner just appeared at the Southern Trade Station. He claims he’s from Astel, and that he and about fifty people escaped into the tunnel before they sealed. They’re walking up the maglev rail.” He paused as the gravity of the situation hit him. “The only lights would be the hard-link systems near the blast doors. The power in the tunnel would be off. I can’t imagine running like that for hours in complete darkness, let alone walking through it.”

“A greater fear can motivate you to ignore lesser ones.” Vincent ran the numbers in his head and calculated the speed the runner would have to have maintained to cover the distance. “If he’s run all that way in twelve hours he’ll be in rough shape. Call for a medical airlift.”

The guard punched in a number on his digipad and filed the request. “M.A.L requested, Southern Trade.” The car slowed as they approached their destination.

“My guess is that he’s used adrenal patches and stims, but I won’t know for sure until I can scan him. Do you have a med-kit handy?”

“There’s a standard one in the trunk.” The guard pulled up to the shop used to service the skiffs. He pointed to the crowd of workers at the end of the platform. He spotted a fellow guard and waved. “That would be him.”

Vincent retrieved the med-kit and jogged to where the crowd had assembled. “Move aside, I’m a doctor.”

The people gave way to reveal a dark-skinned boy in his early teens laying down on a collection of coats. He grinned up at Vincent. “I made it,” he declared in Astelang. His dark eyes were fever bright.

“Yes, you did, and I’m willing to bet you’ve set a record as well.” Vincent scanned him as he counted the visible adrenal patches. He looked at the digipad and was greeted by a sea of red warnings. “What’s your name?”

“Ryan.”

He smiled down at the boy “Ryan, I’m going to remove these patches now. You don’t need them anymore; your job is done. While I do, I want you to tell me what stims you’ve taken.”

The boy tried to sit up. “No! I’ve got to go back. I promised.”

Vincent went to press him back and found himself wrestling with his patient. He felt a sharp pain in his wrist. “Ryan, stop. I’m your friend. Let me help you.”

The guard knelt beside him and forcibly held Ryan in place. “Did he hurt you, Doctor Fel?”

“I hurt you?” The boy began to cry. “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know you didn’t.” Vincent smiled gently, calming him. “It’s okay. We’ll send skiffs to collect everyone, I promise. They’ll all be safe in a few hours.” He heard the distinctive thrum of the attitudinal jets as a ship set down in the parking lot behind them. “You’re going to the hospital now.”

“Will you go with me?” Ryan grabbed Vincent’s injured hand.

The flinch became a wink. “If you like.” Vincent looked up in time to see the expression on the guard’s face change. He turned and watched a squad of Korlo military personnel disembark from an unmarked transport.

“Who called for a M.A.L?” The leader stepped forward as the rest of them fanned out.

“I did.” Vincent stood. “We have a medical emergency—”

“On it.” A man carrying a med-kit stepped past him and hunched down over Ryan. “How old are you, kid?”

“Thirteen.”

The doctor dug through his kit. “I’m going to give you something that will make you feel sleepy. He prepped an IV then adjusted the digital label on the bag.”

“Stop!” Vincent grabbed the bag and looked for a name. He didn’t recognize it. “You can’t sedate him without knowing what stims—” He felt someone grab his arm and twist it up behind his back.

Another newcomer pulled the bag from Vincent’s hand and gave it back to the doctor.

The leader addressed the crowd. “My team and I have been sent to augment your militia. By order of Kairoe’s Canton, we assume command of this situation and subsequent recovery operation. Kairoe militia, you may return to your assigned duties.” She produced an official-looking badge and flashed it to the crowd. She turned to Vincent, who was still being restrained. “Med-Tech, we’re grateful for your assistance, but we won’t need further help. Thank you for your time.”

Vincent was released so abruptly, he stumbled and fell to the ground.

The guard that had escorted him there helped him up. He leaned in, dropping his voice to a low whisper. “Are you all right?”

“I’ll survive.”

“He’s out, ma’am.” Their doctor tucked the IV bag into the front of Ryan’s shirt and stood.

“Put him in suspension.”

Two of the squad returned with a suspension bag and loaded Ryan into it.

The squad leader looked at each person, studying their features in turn. “Who’s in charge here?”

“I am,” a wizened, older Master-Mech said as he stepped forward.

“We’ll need to use five of your skiffs to mount a rescue operation. Have them ready in half an hour.”

*

It was dark when Vincent unlocked the door to the bed-rest and let himself in.

Diani joined him as he fished around in his pocket. She gave him a relieved hug then saw the sling. “Gods, what happened?” She kept her voice low as she pointed at the lightweight cast on his wrist.

“Yes, I’m okay. I broke my wrist doing a good deed and spent the last couple hours being treated at work. I’ve put in for my transfer—” He looked over at the couch. “How’s Pari doing?” He took off the coat and sling then draped them over a stand by the door.

“Much better. She fell asleep half an hour ago.” Diani tapped the cast with her finger. “Good deed?” They joined Roz and Suna at the table in the kitchenette.

“I’ll get to my adventure in a minute. Let me give you the good news, first.” Vincent dug his wallet out and gave Roz back both her and Nash’s cards. “We have enough to get to Merrow,” he slid a cleaner’s token across the table to her, “without selling your coat. It’ll be ready for pick-up tomorrow morning.”

“How?”

“Nash had enough to cover everything.”

“What’s the bad news,” Suna asked.

“There are already people in Kairoe looking for survivors. I met a squad when this happened.” He pointed at the cast. “There’s more. My transfer will take a couple of months. When I applied, my co-workers at the hospital tried their best to talk me out of it. The Chief of Staff even threatened to put me under psychiatric observation until I came to my senses. You’re going to have to go on ahead of me. I’ll catch up when my choice looks a little less reactionary.” He took Diani’s hand and kissed it. “What did Ben have to say?”

“Essentially what he said earlier: ‘Get to Merrow as soon as we have the funds to do so, by whatever means’,” Suna replied.

Pari cleared her throat. “It’s safe to assume that civilian transport out of here will be locked down until they’ve had time to run sweeps. They will find us if we stay here.” She propped herself up. “But, I may have a solution. Kairoe ships supplies and personnel overland to some of the more remote Northern Diaspora. I have friends here. I could call in a favor and get us on one of those transports. We can use the funds to buy passage once things are safer.” Pari tried to sit up further and thought better of it. “If we do this, we won’t be able to contact you directly until you reach Merrow, for obvious reasons.”

Vincent rose and checked on her.

She favored him with a wide grin. “It won’t take long to set things up, and provided no one turns us in. I’ll be a model patient for Roz at our next stop, I promise.”

“I’ll hold you to your word, Pari.”

***

11. The Tunnels

The skiff sat idling in a lay-by; the narrow channel illuminated only by the dull red, park lights of the vehicle. The tunnel it connected to was partially collapsed, but still dry.

Nash peered at the monitor, studying everything in range of the cameras. “So, I’m guessing the final leg of the journey to your group will be on foot.”

“Yep.” Stan divided the rations into equal parts. “Here. Eat. You need to keep your strength up.”

“You eat it. I’m not hungry. Besides, I’d just throw it all up, later.” Nash slumped back against the bulkhead and shut his eyes. Sparks danced to the pounding rhythm of his headache. He tried to find a comfortable position, but nothing worked.

“Have some water, then. You’re dehydrated.” Stan nudged him with the bottle.

Nash unscrewed the lid without opening his eyes and took a small mouthful. He swallowed and fought to keep it down.

Stan reached into the med-kit and pulled out the digipad. He said nothing, as he took Nash’s temperature. A dark scowl formed as it registered.

“What’s it at now?”

“Forty degrees. I don’t get why your fever keeps rising; your exposure was minimal.”

“I’m off my meds. My old infection’s sparking up again—”

“Old— Stan recoiled. “Why didn’t you tell me— No, wait! How the hell are you still in active population if you’re a carrier?”

Nash let out a deep sigh. “Infections are only communicable during the initial incubation and bloom stage. After that, a flare up can kill the host if it goes unchecked, but it can’t hurt anyone else. We’re close to Urvael, right? Are your Med-Techs well-equipped?”

“You’ll cook before we get there.” Stan’s expression shifted to neutral as he stood. He walked to the back to the skiff, dug through a storage locker, and wrestled with something at the bottom. “Change of plan.”

Nash opened his eyes and wiped the sweat from his forehead. “As bad as I feel, I’d prefer not to be shot—”

Stan met his gaze. “I have no intention of shooting you.” He hauled an autonomic suspension bag into view and dragged it to the center of the cabin. “This ASB will buy you some time. Help me set it up.”

Nash stood and assisted in rolling it out. “I don’t remember them being this heavy—” he stopped. It was hard to coordinate his movements. Everything hurt.

“It’s military grade, that’s why—” Stan looked up to find Nash staring blankly at a spot on the floor. “Focus, kid. C’mon, I need you ‘here’ for this last bit. It’ll just take a minute then you can rest. Promise.” He retrieved the water. “Here, take a sip, before I zip you up.”

“Thanks.” Nash accepted the drink, slid into the bag, and took his glasses off. He tucked them into what remained of his shirt pocket, put on the mask, and shut his eyes.

“Sleep well,” Stan added as he zipped the ASB shut and activated it. He waited, watching it fill out with bioconductive gel. The lights flickered then turned green, indicating that autonomic suspension had been achieved. He checked the readings and smiled when Nash’s core temperature began dropping back to normal.

Stan ate the remainder of his meal without tasting it, assessing the situation. ‘Are your Med-Techs well-equipped?’ Stan hung his head. The honest answer was no. All that and he’s just going to die. He threw the empty ration container at the wall in frustration. “Don’t worry, kid. I meant it when I said Tyran stick together.” Stan took the pilot’s seat, turned the skiff around, and retraced their path back to Parlos.

*

Five days later, Stan pulled the skiff off onto a lay-by near the main junction between Junelle and Parlos. He checked the readout for tunnel conditions and noted the humidity had risen. Right. It’s not as if I don’t have enough to deal with. He completed prepping himself for the next leg of his journey. “Stims, patches, water, envirosuit,” he checked everything off his list then took the pills. He applied the patches next and finally, got dressed. He left the hood, goggles and breathing mask off.

Stan wandered back to where the Nash’s ASB lay and set up a small emergency beacon on the metal grate next to the bag. He adjusted the frequency band, so it would only register on the channels used by the Military. That should keep any other M’Kang from investigating. He went to add the digital tag but realized he needed an ID to authenticate it. “Shit.” He dug through his booty and then remembered he’d traded them all. Stan grabbed the med-kit, searched, and found the indelible marker. What the hell did he say their names were? Ah, Kruvic and Maro. He sat back and composed his message before he started writing it on the side of the ASB, in big, block letters. Bag contains Nash Korpes - KMR and D Tech, Junelle Station – Do Not Open! Deliver directly to Dr. Kruvic and/or Dr. Maro - Special Projects Division. He stood, tucking the marker back in the med-kit.

The stillness was broken as something skittered along the underside of the skiff. Stan growled to himself and set the interior lights to remain on. He heard more tiny claws scrape on the roof. Acidity will begin eating holes in the hull in a few days... engine will quit when the filters are saturated... crappy rechargeable battery will die in less than a week without the engine running. He grabbed a box of sonic emitters and placed them in strategic locations around Nash’s ASB, then dug through his pack. He withdrew a long canister and carefully unscrewed it. He removed the top Haloryn cell. He admired the pale blue glow it gave off for a moment, knowing how many ways his own group could use it. It’s for a good cause, he reminded himself and set the lights, ASB, emitters, and beacon to draw directly from it.

“Good luck, kid.” Stan finished suiting up, activated the beacon and started his long run home.

***

The Book Continues... The Teaser Ends...

This is just under the halfway point for book one. I hope you enjoyed the glimpse into The Korpes File Series and the World of Tamyrh. 

Thanks for taking the time to read this far - I hope you enjoyed it!